


Adoption

by Memory25



Series: Adoption [2]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Being a mom to a mafia organisation, Being a single mom and a mafia boss, Even Tsuna, Gen, Izumi did not ask for this shit, Kyoya will bite everyone who looks at his mom wrong, The former is harder than the latter, Yes Tsuna
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-09 22:54:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 50,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5558666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Memory25/pseuds/Memory25
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hibari Kyoya, Protector of Namimori, resident BAMF, just don't ever EVER explain what the last two words are. There is a story behind that. Updates are sporadic but this story is not abandoned. Also, see Adoption:Sidestories. Ported over from FF!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was a little strange, thinking of what to do by myself, planning out what to buy, what to cook, when to clean, when to study and actually sticking to it. Sometimes I procrastinated. Sometimes I outright broke my own ‘schedule’, sometimes I wasted money and just went out and bought takeout. Well, I did alright. I’d been living on my own for a year already when the letter in the black envelope came in. It wasn’t much different.  
Okay, it was a lot different, but I had some experience to fall back upon. And after ‘want’ became ‘need’, I started following my rules a hell lot more.

  
I was 15, turning 16 when I managed to apply for emancipation. It took a shitton of studying and working part-time in order to convince the court that I could make it on my own, but I managed to surprise myself. I hadn’t thought I was capable of such a feat—I knew I was lazy, undisciplined and absolutely lousy in time management. The pot of money I was left with also helped smooth the way. It was a good thing the will didn’t have a specific age requirement.

Though I guess they had expected to live a lot longer.

  
In any case, I finished my studies six months later, got my diploma, and was debating between continuing my studies while living off my inheritance and getting a job right away to accumulate some proper work experience when the other black enveloped letter came in. I was a little confused though. I didn’t know I had other relatives to be killed off.

  
Turns out I did. Sort of. It was this grandaunt a few times removed whom my parents had kept in contact with. I’d even visited her before when I was young, though the memories were blurred and fuzzy at the edges. There wasn’t anything in particular that stood out.

  
So.

  
I hadn’t really gotten over the first letter yet (I’d probably channeled some of that grief into my studies, which is why I did better than even I expected. First Class Honors. Huh. Who’da thought it?) and so I was still feeling all the tenderly sappiness that made me a lot more appreciative of family relations. Which was why I decided to take the trip to Namimori to attend the funeral and give my condolences.

  
Turns out, it wasn’t just my condolences I had been contacted for. No. Dearest Granny left behind a 10 year old grandson. Apparently his parents had died a few years ago and she’d been the one taking care of him. And the only relative they had managed to track down was…

  
Bingo. Me.

  
16 year old emancipated minor with a diploma cert. Being emancipated and holding a professional qualification made me eligible to take over this kid’s care. More digging around revealed that the reason they had gone out of their way to find someone to care for the kid was because of the HUGE inheritance the parents had left behind. Too bad they’d expressly stated that custody was to go to a relative—any relative—before they resorted to foster care. Huh. Looks like these parents had expected to die early.

  
Well, okay. I was still a little mushy and soft inside and the letter that came with the will was pretty moving with all the ‘family comes first’ and ‘blood is thicker than water’ stuff that was in it. I’m pretty sure it was referring to dear granny—they obviously hadn’t expected her to kick the bucket so early—and even if it wasn’t I’m pretty sure they didn’t have someone like me in mind when they were writing it.  
Come to think of it, they’d probably been expecting my parents to be his guardians…

  
But anyway, I was pretty touched by the letter, and I knew what foster care was like. I’d spent a few days there waiting for the verdict, wondering anxiously if they’d let me continue studying, hoping to god that they’d let me out of that cold, clinical place where children younger than me had eyes older than mine. All that talk about ‘caring volunteers’ and ‘experienced social workers’ in the pamphlet? A whole crock of crap, in my humble opinion.

  
Sure, they fed us (the same crap everyday), they clothed us (with clothes from the Salvation Army), they gave us a roof over our heads and beds to sleep in (those were like beds of ROCK lemme tell ya) BUT, they didn’t give shit about us. We were just ‘investments’ to continue the economy—to grow up into working adults and contribute back to society. There was no care, there was no backtalk, what you get from the state is what you have and don’t you complain because this is all taxpayer’s money!

  
…Right.

  
By the way, when I got the letter and went to the funeral, there was this government guy who gave his ‘sincere condolences’ and then proceeded to harangue me about what I needed to decide for my future. AT MY PARENT’S FUNERAL. It was like, I am sorry for your loss. BAM. There are a few things you need to read and decide from now on…

  
It was… I couldn’t even… ARGH.

  
So I seriously felt for this poor kid, who would most likely be going through the same damn thing, except that he was only TEN.

  
The decision had already been made for me. I was taking care of this kid.

  
xXXx

  
The day I met my new ‘ward’ (and boy did they try to convince me otherwise) it was a beautiful day. The sun peeked through clouds, the morning dew sparkled on the grass. There was even a rainbow hanging there. I felt worse. It was like the whole world was conspiring to mock this funeral.

  
And yes, I knew the feeling too. It would have been better to have it pouring really.

  
So I was driven to the gates of a pretty cozy-looking traditional Japanese house with a handful of papers and an envelope of koden. I’d tucked some joss sticks away in my Mofuku—I couldn’t believe I was the closest relative available—just in case.

  
Boy was I glad I did.

  
When I stepped into the house, it was nearly empty. The funeral had been organized by the town council, but boy was it meager. Obviously they hadn’t gotten permission to dip into the boy’s coffers, because there was hardly anything there. Hardly anyone too.

  
I’d barely entered when I was stopped by a furious, steely-eyed boy. His raven-black hair was nearly standing up from anger, and his sharp grey gaze was impressively intimidating. It was a surprise, how calm he was for a kid, though his hands trembled and his breathing was heavy. His eyes weren’t puffy, and he managed to address me tolerably politely. Well, for someone who was grieving and dealing with the contemptible bureaucracy.  
“What are you doing here? Who are you!” He eyed my mofuku with disgust. As I had expected, really.

  
I figured the kid had received the same platitudes and ‘condolences’ I had been given, so I did my best to convey my sincerity. I bowed low, stepped forward and pressed the heavy envelope of cash into his hands. His eyes widened a little in confusion. The poor guy was probably at a loss.

  
He was pretty short, and I didn’t want to talk down to him, so I knelt on the ground—yes, my mofuku got dirty and crap—to address him.

  
“I’m a relative from Tokyo. Your grandmother was my grandaunt on my mother’s side and they kept in contact while they were still alive.” I said carefully—not patronizingly—, watching his face as he twitched. When he didn’t yell at me, I carried on, “I’m the only one left and I came to offer my condolences. I am sorry for your loss.”

  
He examined my face carefully as his hands tensed and twisted around the koden. I could tell he was gritting his teeth a little as he struggled to accept the words. It looked like things had been difficult recently. I forced myself to wait patiently.

  
He took a deep breath, nodded sharply, and turned around—presumably to lead me to the altar. I didn’t take offence, just stood up, brushed my kimono, and followed.

  
When I reached the altar, I was rather outraged myself.

  
The priest was sitting there chanting sutras, but the funeral flower arrangement was just downright pitiful. It was seriously tiny and the only incense burning in front was probably the kid’s.

  
What the hell.

  
I bit my lips from blurting anything stupid, but they trembled in indignation. I had to blink a few times and swallow before I could turn to the boy who had been standing cautiously beside me, “Can I offer some incense to her?”

  
He hesitated as his eyes roved around the room. The longer he stood, the more he tensed. It was kind of obvious that they hadn’t bought enough sticks for visitors, not having expected any. Before he could get apoplexy or a seizure, I hurriedly pulled out the incense sticks from my sleeve. He subsided, but his eyes burned with anger and chagrin.

  
He’s only TEN you BASTARDS.

  
Feeling as if I had to make up for the lack of people somehow, I knelt fully and kowtowed three times. I didn’t know her very well, but I was the only other person here. If nothing else, I couldn’t let someone who shared my blood suffer so. I stuck the sticks solemnly into the pot and bowed. Then I sighed.

  
Now came the hard part.

  
xXXx

  
“There’s something else I came here for.” The girl’s tone was apologetic as she approached him again. He felt his eyes narrow.

  
He didn’t recognize her, she wasn’t anyone he knew. He’d never heard of a cousin before. They didn’t even look alike from what he could see. Her eyes were not Hibari grey, instead a dark brown bordering on black and they were almond shaped instead of his own cat-like ones.

  
He was sick of people from the council offering their stupid apologies and condolences and trying to talk to him about this paper and that account. He wasn’t stupid enough to sign anything, and he hadn’t agreed to anything, and he was not going to accept any of their pitiful ‘help’.

  
He’d live by himself if he had to. Or run away. Or something.

  
His so-called ‘relative’, Tojita Izumi, had been pretty convincing in her sincerity, but he was still skeptical. After so many pandering flesh bags, he was running low on patience.

  
“What is it?” he questioned bluntly, congratulating himself for keeping the weariness out of his voice. He resisted the urge to sigh and rub his face.

  
When she took out another sheaf of papers from her sleeve and sat down carefully, he couldn’t prevent the snarl. He was sick of this. Grandmother was dead. Why couldn’t these irritating vultures leave him alone?

  
Her voice was quiet as she smoothed the papers in front of him, “I’m sorry for doing this to you—it’s pretty shitty when people pester you after someone has just died—but this is important.” She held the front sheet closer, “The truth is I didn’t know about your grandmother’s death until the government sent me a notice. It’s true—we’re not close, but apparently I was the only one left.”

  
He swallowed his irritation as she spoke. At least she was being honest with him, though he didn’t like the fact that she had come for something other than his grandmother’s death. It wasn’t exactly her fault if she had received the notice—he hadn’t missed the implication that her parents were dead.

  
“I’m the only blood relation they managed to contact,” she elaborated, “and so… I’m the only one eligible to take custody of you according to your parents’ will.”

  
Kyoya felt his rage explode.

  
xXXx

  
“GET OUT OF HERE!!!” He yelled, pushing me away. Obviously, I had struck a nerve. I knew this wasn’t going to go over well with him. It sounded suspicious by itself—like I was eyeing his fortune or something. And the way the government had taken pains to contact me was already odd.

  
I took a deep breath. I don’t take well to people yelling at me and I have a horrible temper. Must be a family thing.

  
“Calm down, Hibari-kun,” I murmured when his roaring died down. I was pretty sure he was going to throw himself at me with how worked up he was. If I hadn’t been a spitfire in my own right, or understood the feeling of having to put up with greedy, grabby vultures, I’d probably be running out the door with my tail between my legs. As it was, the kid had an evil glare.

  
I flattened the crumpled sheets again, “This is important. The government isn’t going to let this go if you don’t decide what to do. You’re too young to apply for emancipation and they won’t let you stay here without supervision. You’ll be sent to foster care.”

  
I eyed him cautiously as he continued glaring. “Personally, I find it pretty weird that the only relative they managed to track down is a 16 year old emancipated minor.” At his startled glance, I added, “Seriously, I can’t believe it. I was still deciding if I wanted to further my studies when the letter came in.”

  
Now he was eyeing me carefully. I was impressed. For a ten year old, he was really mature. I beckoned him closer, “C’mon, I want to explain everything clearly.”

  
xXXx

  
Kyoya was still cautious. Really, he’d be a fool to take her for her word. He toyed with the idea of chasing her out, but a wave of fatigue washed over him and he had to force himself not to slump. She’d been the first to offer a proper explanation and not cower at his anger.

  
He stalked over to the fallen girl and sat in front of her, crossing his arms.

  
He saw her lips quirk before she presented the papers again. Pointing at several highlighted parts, she began explaining.

  
As his parents had taught him, he watched the speaker as much as the content. Listened to the nuances in her voice as well as the words themselves. It seemed she had done her research and examined the papers extensively, her voice was confident and she didn’t stumble. It was a point to her that she genuinely wanted him to know what it was all about—all the adults had tried to hide things from him.

  
When she tapped the paragraph from his parents’ will that had been highlighted and underlined in bold, he smirked. It was obvious that they wouldn’t have allowed their fortune to fall into the government’s greedy hands. Although, he agreed, they seemed to have not taken into account Grandmother’s own death.

  
It was a ridiculous idea. An adolescent raising a child. No doubt a ploy to gain access to his inheritance. Even he couldn’t believe that he had only one relative left, who was coincidentally an emancipated minor to boot.  
Compared to the others, though, he preferred her voice. He preferred the honesty and the bluntness and the empathy he could see in her eyes. She didn’t have to adopt him—would probably face a lot of difficulty doing so—and the will made it clear that she couldn’t touch the money. So it probably wasn’t out of greed that she had made the offer.

  
“I know it’s going to be difficult,” she told him grimly, “but I’ve been in foster care and it sucks. And if you go there they get the right to bill you for it—which is exactly what they want. You’re just ten years old, so it’s impossible to apply for emancipation.”

  
She took another deep breath and stared at him determinedly, “I can’t say that I’m the greatest role model or the best care taker, but I have been able to survive for a year by myself. We don’t have to worry about money because we’ll get an allowance from the bank—not a lot, but enough.” At his dark look, “No, see here—it’s only enough to cover food and necessities. I’m still getting a job. I’ve access to my inheritance, which I don’t really want to touch because I still want to get a degree, but it’ll be some insurance. The government can’t deny my ability to support you financially that way.”

  
She cleared her throat and pointed, “Your parents already willed you the house, so we could stay here—I’ll do the housework. That takes care of residence. As for education, you’ll continue studying in Namimori Elementary. If you need any help, I could explain stuff I guess.”

  
As Kyoya examined the sheets spread out in front of him, she fidgeted nervously. He reread everything—it was all true. She’d answered all his questions and done her best to cover all grounds in order to combat any objections. There was nothing he needed to do but accept.

  
Was it too good to be true?

  
He hesitated, staring at the papers. He was putting his life in this girl’s hands. His trust. His well-being.

  
He looked up.

  
There were dark circles around her eyes, and she was biting her lip. Unlike the people who had marched into his home with smug confidence, their hands and lips full of empty plans and vague promises. Her hands were gripping the pieces of a solid, detailed layout, even though they kept fidgeting and twisting the fabric of her mofuku.

  
Eggs and vows are easily broken, his father had told him once, judge people by what they have done, and not what they say they will do.

  
This thin and tired girl, who had come from Tokyo despite not knowing him, who had researched and read his parents’ will to explain it to him, was offering to take his burden and informing him exactly how she would do it.

  
He nodded.

  
Her reaction was more reassuring than if she had smiled in relief. She closed her eyes and took a fortifying breath. “Okay,” she nodded, “okay. It’s decided. Okay.”

  
When she reached over and carefully enveloped him in a hug, he felt his chest loosen, just a little, as he breathed in the scent of the incense she had brought.  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ugh I hate this. I've to go around carefully unsticking all the paragraphs. =.= damn you HTML. Why you no double spaces???

Once Hibari-kun had agreed to the adoption, I felt a weight press down on my shoulders. I hadn’t actually expected him to accept so easily, and now I had a responsibility to fulfill. I felt a little faint, but pulled myself together.

First things first, I had to oversee the funeral rites and the ceremonies that Hibari-kun may not know how to or be able to carry out.

  
“Have they said anything about the bone-picking?” I said lowly. It was a rite of utmost importance and children were usually discouraged.

  
The wide-eyed look of surprise was an answer in itself.

  
I nodded slowly, mind racing. “I’ll ask the priest if you can be present as well—do you know the order?” It was important to pick bones from the bottom up to ensure that his grandmother wasn’t upside-down in the urn. And we had to set the hyoid carefully.

  
Hesitantly, he nodded. I made a note to teach him beforehand so that there wouldn’t be any hiccups or overt whispering during the rite.

  
Fiddling with the papers in my hand, I muttered the things to figure out—people to carry the casket, change of flower arrangements. Incense. Money. A typical wake lasted 3-4 days, but there wouldn’t be much use extending the time when no other relatives were coming and we needed the time to figure out other things. I could bring the cremation forward to tomorrow—after discussion with Hibari and the priest and hiring people to assist us.

  
“Have they prepared the altar to place her remains?” I asked absentmindedly. When there was no answer I turned to him fully, “What.” I narrowed my eyes in indignation, “Please don’t tell me…”

  
When a person is cremated, their remains are placed at the family altar for 35 days. But it wasn’t just putting the urn there—there were arrangements to make and a priest had to be consulted. It was very important!  
“I don’t know,” Hibari replied in frustration. “They won’t tell me anything.”

  
At the sight of his clenched fists, I reached out abruptly and ruffled his hair. The stunned look on his face made him look his age again and I felt my lips twitch, “Don’t worry, kiddo. I’ll get the details from them.” I gestured with the adoption papers, “We’ll need to get this settled as early as possible so that they won’t be able to block me. And relax, I’ve had to oversee a funeral before and I did okay.”

  
I took another deep breath and started to plot.

  
xXXx

  
Kyoya felt the uneasiness in his stomach slowly uncoil as he listened to Izumi speak. She was a little hesitant, and her eyes were flicking everywhere, but her voice was even and controlled. She had a plan, and that was more than he had.

  
The unexpected wave of relief made him tremble slightly.

  
“Okay, we’ll just hurry over to the office to get these signed and witnessed,” Izumi stated gravely, “I’ll try to make it as short as possible and if we’re lucky and don’t get an asshole, it’ll take 15 minutes tops. An hour if I have to argue. I don’t think they’ll be able to push us too hard because we still need to get back here for the rites and if they do, I’ll lodge a complaint to the committee. I’m pretty sure any decent person would defend us.”  
She waited until Kyoya nodded in agreement before taking his hand. From her sleeve, she produced a few more sticks of incense, lighting them and handing him a few, “Put some more and ask her to help us. I’m sure she will watch over you.”

  
Carefully, he took the sticks and knelt in front of the altar—Izumi behind him, as was proper. Closing his eyes, he could still hear Grandmother’s voice and feel her hands running through his hair. Biting his lips, he sat up stiffly and prayed. He hoped she was happy in heaven with his parents.

  
When they went up to the altar, he looked around for the stool—he was still a little too short to reach the pot. Hands circled his waist gently and he tensed. Even his parents had never touched him so easily, but Izumi was his guardian now. He allowed her to pick him up so that he could push the sticks into the pot.

  
He didn’t thank her, and she didn’t ask him to.

  
But he let her hold his hand as they stepped out of the house.

  
xXXx

  
As I suspected, the authorities were rather reluctant to allow a 16 year old girl to take custody of a child. Even though they were the ones to contact me, they’d probably not expected me to actually want to adopt Kyoya (I guess I should start calling him that). As I estimated, it took roughly an hour of scrutinizing my documents and hemming and hawing before they’d finally given in and acknowledged my claim of custody. Throughout the whole idiotic trial, I kept his hand prisoner. I’m pretty sure he would have stood up and thrown a fit if I hadn’t.

  
While the ink was still drying on the papers, we were already on our way to the local crematorium to make arrangements for the funeral. The entire thing had been arranged as simply as possible and that was an insult. I barked orders to change the flowers, took the names of the men who would carry the casket and drive the hearse, and ran about procuring incense, flowers and fresh fruits. I’d also checked the procedures done for the presentation of the body just in case they’d skimmed over that too. Fortunately, even they weren’t as beastly as that.

  
The old priest there offered to waive the fee for the cremation, but I refused firmly—it wasn’t proper to accept charity for a relative’s funeral. We weren’t paupers who couldn’t even afford a proper cremation. I could use the money my parents left me if it came to that.

  
In fact, I was pretty sure there had to be some allowance for a funeral in the will or at least a clause in the law. I made another note to check up on it just in case. Unless the petty offerings I’d seen was the extent of their ‘generosity’.

  
There was also the matter of the family shrine—it hadn’t been sealed properly. I was appalled, as was Kyoya, and we hurried to get a priest to take action. He also consulted his books and gave us the dates we could move the urn to the family grave as well as a short lesson on what kind of offerings to bring, what gestures to do. It was thoughtful of him.

  
It was nearly evening when we had attended to all the arrangements. Kyoya was drooping, but stubbornly clinging on. I was exhausted from running around the town immediately after my arrival—I hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. Both of us were stifling yawns and bleary-eyed.

  
But somebody had to remain present at the wake.

  
It was apparent that mule-headedness ran in the family—neither of us could convince the other to go to bed. The both of us ended up sitting beside the altar quietly trying to stare the other into submission. I had to admit, if I didn’t have to be the adult, and thus the responsible one, I would have caved in to the steely glare. But since I was, I couldn’t very well allow my ward to sit up alone all night beside a dead body.

  
Instead, I draped an arm over his weary form and pulled him closer to my side. His non-resistance was a very obvious indication of just how tired he was. I reined in a sigh. Stubborn donkey-headed kid. I tousled his hair fondly. I liked him already.

  
“You need to clean up. All that running around has made you all sticky and smelly. I’ll keep watch while you change and we can switch.” It was absolutely wonderful that he was already ten, if he had been younger I wouldn’t trust him to take a bath by himself. And I thanked the heavens that I had had the foresight to bring a change of clothes.

  
He hesitated again, flashing me a sharp look as if he didn’t quite trust me to watch his grandmother, but gave in. Another thing I appreciated, he listened as long as it was reasonable.

  
I held his arm as he got up, “Make sure you wash thoroughly. Don’t rush over anything and end up showing her a dirty face.” Matured and intelligent and reasonable, but he was still a kid. When he glared at me glumly, I nearly rolled my eyes. His intentions had been obvious.

  
As he plodded sullenly inside, I released a slow breath and leaned against the wall, watching the smoke from the incense curl up lazily into the darkening sky.

xXXx

  
As hot water splashed against his skin, he sighed in relief. It was a little guilt-inducing, but Izumi’s words about being clean made sense. It was a gesture of respect to Grandmother that he didn’t face her with dust and sweat on his clothes. He propped himself against the wall as he thought of the day’s events.

  
It had been exhausting, finding out and making new arrangements for the funeral. The people at the office had wasted a lot of their time trying to talk both them out of their decision. It made his blood boil and if Izumi had not told him that they couldn’t afford to insult them, he would have bitten them to death. He nearly had anyway, but he hadn’t been able to pull his hand out of hers. The girl had a vice-like grip when she chose to use it.  
But it was a welcome change from the previous days. Something had been done, and Izumi had tried her best to include his opinions when deciding. She’d been weary too, her back slumping slightly during the brief interludes. She was always busy. Even at lunchtime she ate quickly and spent most the rest of it bent over papers and signing forms and talking to people. But she had done it because he couldn’t, and even the things he could, she did so he didn’t. He’d tried to feel indignation, but all he felt was relief.

  
He’d thought that there was nobody left on his side.

  
As he pulled on a new, clean mofuku, he felt the beginnings of hope.

  
xXXx

  
My eyes were half closed when Kyoya padded softly back. His hair was still wet, but he looked well-scrubbed and the mofuku he wore was new. I stifled another yawn but stood up.

  
“May I use the bathroom?” I asked carefully. While I probably had the right now that I was his guardian, I didn’t want to impose when we had just met. Though it looked like my apprehension was for naught, since he nodded matter-of-factly and gave me directions willingly enough.

  
It was relief to finally take a shower and get clean. I felt my tensed muscles relax and the weariness ease. It was a little easier to bear the strain of responsibility, a little easier to straighten my back and lift my head. The words of my parents repeated themselves in my ear as I stood. Words of advice, words of encouragement, and above all, the mantra that they would always stand by me and love me. I felt my eyes tear up a little, but cleared my throat firmly.

  
I was alone, Kyoya was alone. We were both young and inexperienced—he more than I. While I was fresh out of school and wet behind the ears, he was still in the midst of childhood. Even if I understood how he felt, I didn’t know if I would be able to give him the care and guidance he needed. I knew myself. Knew my faults and until recently, hadn’t bothered to change them. Thinking of the years ahead made my knees buckle.  
Could I be a good role model? Could I impart the values my families had drilled into me—the good ones? Could I teach this struggling but strong-willed boy how to become a good man? I was barely a woman myself—could I be the adult he needed me to be?

  
I slapped myself. Hard. There was no point worrying myself sick over this. I had to try. My mother had always said that it was better to try than not at all. I had taken on this responsibility, I would see it through. I had to. I didn’t know what I’d do if I had ruined his future just because I couldn’t take the weight.

  
I would definitely make mistakes. Kyoya was aloof and hurt and stubborn. I wasn’t the best in socializing and sometimes my words ran away from me. We would butt heads, he may come to resent me, but I had to do my best.

  
I pressed my head against the door and breathed. Then I tightened my obi and strode out.

  
xXXx

  
We were both sleepy. After the hectic day we had, how could we not? But we were both stubborn and we both had a duty and so we both managed to last past midnight. Even my waist length hair had dried by then. Tucked under my arm, Kyoya sat as still as a statue, although he was beginning to nod off.

  
Fortunately, I had the experience of a high school student studying for exams under my belt. Kyoya had no such thing. And I’d ignored his protests and pulled him to my side on purpose. Warmth made people sleepy and I was pretty sure I made a decent pillow to lean on. It took him a few hours, but he finally slumped against me, breathing evenly.

  
Cute stubborn brat.

  
I shifted him so that he lay with his head in my lap—I knew how painful it was to wake up from an uncomfortable position. Playing with his unbelievably soft hair, I relaxed my stiff pose and listened to the cricking insects in the garden as I made plans for the next day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I forgot to put the author's note on the first two chapters, so here it is. I'll put the disclaimer up on my profile later.
> 
> So. I've decided to write an adopt-Kyoya fic. Not too sure how original it is, although I see that it's not exactly a very common plot. It's an idea that hit me while I was trying to crack my head against the wall over Little Doctor. I've since then set it aside in order to satisfy the insatiable muse that has decided to stay in my brain for the moment. And yes, I realized that it's insatiable.
> 
> For some of the things I had mentioned in the previous chapters, here's a short explanation on some of the Japanese terms used as well as the practices. I've probably fudged most of them because I couldn't be arsed to explain everything, but I followed most of them.
> 
> 1) Mofuku. That's the Japanese mourning attire worn only by close relatives. In real life it's not exactly just one piece. You can wear parts of the mofuku attire on your attire to show how close you were to the deceased. The more mofuku, the closer you are. Kyoya was angry because Izumi wore mofuku even though she had never known his grandmother. Remember, it's not just blood that's taken into account.
> 
> 2)Koden. That's consolation money or something like that. You put it into these black and white envelopes and give it to the relative who arranged the funeral. It's to contribute to the cost. Amounts can range from ¥3000 to ¥30,000. Izumi probably gave closer to the higher end.
> 
> Another thing I'd like to mention is my 'description' of foster care. Don't take my word for it because I'm just fudging stuff up. I have no idea what foster care is really like, or if it even fits the context of what I described.

Kyoya always had the habit of waking up early—it had been drilled into him by his parents, and he had carried on after their deaths. So it was only a little after dawn when he opened his eyes and looked up into Izumi’s tired face. He didn’t twitch as her fingers ran gently through his hair. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d fallen asleep in someone’s lap. He blinked.

  
“You’re awake,” her voice was soft and a little hoarse. She cleared her throat and tried again, “You hungry?”

  
He’d been eating takeout since Grandmother died, but it had only been when he remembered to, or when the growling of his stomach became too loud to ignore. He sat up stiffly and shrugged, remembering himself.

  
“Okay,” she pinched herself and shook her head, “Lead the way to the kitchen.” She stood and stretched, bones cracking audibly. With a lopsided smile, she laid an arm around his shoulder—she was prone to doing that, he noticed—and ruffled his hair.

  
“Why didn’t you wake me?” He scowled, even as he obliged her overly familiar actions. He supposed he owed her for what she had done for Grandmother.

  
She rubbed her eyes, “You’re a good boy, Kyoya-kun. And you’re a lot smarter than most. But your body needs rest and you shouldn’t force it if it’s not necessary.” At his protest, she added, “I know you were her only real family, but you don’t have to go to extremes to prove it. I’m sure she already knows.” She tapped his forehead, “Keep yourself sharp and alert for the important parts—the casket bearing, the cremating and the bone-picking. You’ll have to be the one to bear her urn back to the family altar, and you can’t risk tripping over your feet from exhaustion.”

  
Apparently lack of sleep made her a lot more informal than usual, but Kyoya couldn’t deny the logic in her words. He nodded and didn’t grumble—there was no point doing so and she was right.

  
He allowed her to keep her arm around his shoulder as he steered her towards the kitchen.

  
xXXx

  
My cooking wasn’t fantastic, but it was edible. I never managed to learn my mother’s recipes before she passed and I hadn’t exactly been interested then. In the year I spent living alone (both before and after their death) I’d searched for simple recipes online—things that were easy to make and didn’t take a lot of time.

  
The fridge was still stocked—thank god—and I felt a little uncomfortable thinking about how Auntie must have been the one to do it. It was just a little revelation, how a person could be merrily bustling about doing chores and caring for her grandson, and then gone in the blink of an eye. I swallowed and turned back to the staring boy.

  
“What do you usually eat for breakfast?” I had noticed a bottle of milk, but there hadn’t been any cereal.

  
“Toast,” he replied unblinkingly. I searched around a little and found the loaf behind a head of cabbage, and another look discovered some jam and butter.

  
Inwardly thanking that breakfast was turning out to be a rather simple affair, I fiddled with the toaster for a short moment—it was pretty easy to use, thank god again—and popped two slices in. The little light on the toaster lit up, and I left it to do its work as I searched for the cups and plates. It was pretty awkward with Kyoya just standing there watching as I poked around in his kitchen.

  
I found a glass and poured milk (still fresh) into it and handed it to him. He settled into a chair and sipped it carefully, but continued to stare. Meh.

  
“Jam or butter?” I asked evenly as I looked for coffee. Most of the cabinets had preserves and other dried foods—a good thing, I wouldn’t need to worry too much about food—and there was one stocked full with tea, but I still hadn’t found a tin of coffee. Ugh.

  
“Butter.”

  
I searched a little more before giving up, “Do you know if you have any coffee here?”

  
When I received a shrug, I resisted the urge to groan. His grandmother probably preferred tea, and a kid like him wouldn’t drink coffee. Argh. I debated between tea and milk, and decided on milk. Tea would’ve been too troublesome to make anyway.

  
As we sat opposite each other, each sipping a glass of milk, waiting for the toast to toast, I decided to bring up another issue I had thought of. “Kyoya-kun, is there an unused bedroom I could use?” I’d established I would be staying here, but I didn’t want to take over his parents’ or Auntie’s room, so I hoped there was an alternative.

  
He narrowed his eyes and didn’t reply, but he didn’t yell either, which was an improvement.

  
The toaster dinged merrily and I stood. We still had some time before he needed to decide, and I guessed I could give him some space. I popped another two slices into the toaster and picked up the buttering knife. I spread the butter slowly, but eventually picked the plate up and placed it in front of him with a soft clink.

  
He ate willingly enough. I sipped my milk as I waited for my toast.

  
It was awkward and uncomfortable and too quiet. I stood again a little too eagerly when the toaster chimed.

  
“My parents’ room.”

  
I froze.

  
“My parents’ room has been cleared so you can use it. There’s a spare futon in the storeroom.”

  
I didn’t wince, but it was a near thing. Picking up my plate and returning to the table, I looked at him. As expected, he was scowling. “We’re going to have to clear her room too,” I furrowed my brow, “You’re going to have to decide what things to keep out and what to store in the back.” When his scowl deepened, I added, “You can do it during the 35 days. So take your time.”

  
He eyed me a little suspiciously, but nodded.

  
Again, I resisted the urge to sigh.

  
Instead, I picked up his empty plate, “Want some more?”

  
xXXx

  
She held his hand when the priest came to say the last of the sutras. She’d pressed the envelope of money for the priest in his hands. She’d told him when to bow, when to kneel and when it was time to take one last peep before the men came to bear the coffin away. She’d passed him the framed photograph gravely and solemnly and laid her hand on his shoulder again as they followed the procession.

  
He supposed he had to thank her for arranging everything.

  
When the casket was lifted into the flames, she’d hugged him loosely from behind, pressing the him close the whole time it took for it to burn. He hadn’t looked away from the flames, and she, chin pressed lightly on his head, probably hadn’t either. Even when the flames revealed gleaming white bones, she hadn’t made him turn away.

  
He supposed she could use his parents’ room. It was mostly bare anyway and it had been empty for many years.  
When the ashes were collected and spread carefully, and they were given chopsticks to pick the chips into the urn, he remembered the short lesson she had given him on what to do. He picked up each piece carefully, sometimes moving the large ones with her, knowing that alone, he probably couldn’t have lifted them. Had she needed to pick them alone?   
She’d been silent, moving efficiently and gracefully. Despite that, he felt her presence keenly. However, instead of the burning resentment that had churned in his chest the past few days, he felt his breathing ease.

  
He supposed he was glad that she was here. Strange, they’d only met just yesterday.

  
And when the urn was sealed and they made their way home with it, she’d tucked him against her side tightly, one arm curled over it. They got out of the car and she didn’t remove it until they stood in front of the altar, carefully decorated with the flowers she had bought and restocked with incense and matches and candles. And she put her arms around his waist again to lift him up so that he could place the urn.

  
Well, he supposed he could allow a hug or two.

  
And if he squeezed back a little, it was just him being obliging.

  
xXXx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally sort of figured out how to do this ao3 thing, but still quite a bit of a hassle, I'll be going back to fix the previous chapters. Some of the notes were just copy/pasted from my previous ones so I'll edit them slowly after I'm done.


	4. Chapter 4

If I thought the past two days were difficult, it was nothing compared to the next few weeks.

  
I moved into Kyoya’s parents’s room and, though it felt strange, had no problems falling asleep after my long stint. Unfortunately, I had responsibilities now, so I didn’t get the luxury of sleeping in and lounging about lazily. When the clock beeped six o’ clock, I dragged myself out.

  
Kyoya had been given a few days leave from school, so we still had time to figure out the rest of the legal bits and whatever else there needed to be done. I needed to return to Tokyo for a bit and pack up the rest of my things, sort out the apartment lease with my landlord, and arrange for someone to look after my parents’ properties. It had to be sometime this week, or the confirmation date would be over and I’d lose all the security deposit instead of just part of it.  
I passed the soiled mofuku on my way to the bathroom and thumped my head on the wall. I’d have to send those for cleaning later, and I needed to plan out a schedule for chores. I debated with making him help out, but I couldn’t bring myself to make a ten year old kid do any more than help dry the dishes. It wouldn’t be right anyway, my parents had never done that. I hadn’t washed dishes until I was twelve.

  
Oh, and I needed to figure out the costs of the funeral. I’d taken down the numbers the day before yesterday, and gotten some estimates of the ‘arrangements’ the council had given, so all there was left was to tally them up and maybe wrangle the actual amount of money the boy had received from his parents’ insurance policies from that greasy official.  
And ask when the allowance from his parents would start coming in. And put up my CV for a job. And meet Kyoya’s teacher and principal. Ugh.

  
…And go groceries shopping. The boy had obviously not been eating regularly, he’d practically wolfed down the food I’d made last night. I reminded myself to make a bigger breakfast today—maybe eggs with toast (we were running out of bread too) and some sausages.

  
I thumped my head again before getting a pen and a notepad.

  
xXXx

  
It was early, as usual, when Kyoya awoke. He’d laid in bed, a little surprised at how light he felt. There was the familiar stirrings of grief, but he mostly felt relieved that the entire headache was over. He could pray and mourn Grandmother without being hounded by the despicable officials in the silence of his home.

  
Or almost silence, there were still soft footsteps as Izumi used the kitchen. And the occasional tinkle of glass. He didn’t mind that as much.

  
He turned his head as the door slid open gently. Izumi blinked at him with the bundle of fresh flowers in hand. She eyed the burning incense, but padded over to change the flowers without a word. It was one of the things he appreciated about her. She pressed her palms together in respect, and retreated with only a pat on his shoulder and a whisper of breakfast.

  
They were both getting used to each other, he admitted. And it was a little strange having to compromise with a stranger in his own home, but he was learning. She tried her best not to order him about, and he agreed to most of her decisions. They usually made sense anyway. She still touched him too much, and persisted in calling him by his name, but he had resigned himself to it. It must be a woman thing.

  
xXXx

  
The list of things to do was disheartening. I tried not to focus too much on the length and instead made smaller lists of things I could do at the same time/place. Each list was still at least half a page, but at least my mind was clearer and I could focus on what to do next. It was nerve-wracking, having to call the shots, but I squared my shoulders and lifted my head.

  
Chin up, girl.

  
The first thing to do was settle all the legal affairs. I had to go over the wills—both his parents’ and his grandmother’s. I had to pick up the adoption papers which would give me custody over him (until I had those everything still wasn’t set in stone). I had to find someone (probably an attorney) to help me wade through the sea of papers and probably give me a concrete understanding of what Kyoya was due. And then make arrangements for those to be taken cared of (yeah, probably going to need that attorney, and maybe an accountant).

  
The officials had allowed me custody, but because of my youth, there would be a probation period where a social worker would visit weekly to check on Kyoya. That was a good thing, since it forced me to do my best. I reined in my frustration at skeptical adults and reminded myself, Silver lining girl. I have nothing to hide and I can do this. I don’t need proof from anyone but Kyoya. Remember, not a bull-headed teenager, okay?

  
“Izumi,” I looked up from her lists, lips quirking. Kyoya still wasn’t exactly used to calling me by my name, and he looked adorably awkward each time he did. This time he was standing at the doorway with an uncertain expression. Well, as uncertain as I could tell from his poker-blank face.

  
“Hmm?” I smiled at him, careful not to sound too friendly.

  
He approached, glancing at the lists, “What are you planning to do today?”

  
The smile I gave him then was probably more of a grimace, “I’m thinking of finishing up all the paperwork and finalizing the adoption. Then there’s a few more things we need to clear from your parents’ will. Your grandma left some things to you too. Oh, and we need to stop by the insurance claims departments. We’ll probably go grocery shopping on the way back so that we have more time to do other things this week before you start school.” I scratched my head as I looked at my lists, “That’s about it for today I guess.”

  
I looked at him, “Why? You want to do something today?”

  
If he were any other boy, he would probably have fidgeted. Instead, he replied stoically, “No.”

  
“Hn,” I cocked an eyebrow.

  
He scowled then, “There is nothing.”

  
This time I raised the other one, “Oh reaaaaallllly.”

  
His eyes flashed, and he nearly snarled. Geez, this boy was high-strung. And he’d probably never been teased before. Bah. I rolled my eyes as I patted his head, “Kyoya, just tell me what you had in mind. If we can fit it in, we will. If we can’t, I’ll either say no or try to do it on another day. No harm done.” I stressed, “Really.”

  
At that, he probably realized how he’d been acting. He crossed his arms and frowned—okay, pouted. No matter how seriously he behaved, a ten year old boy sulking is just adorable. And they don’t frown, they pout. I reined in my chuckle before he could get offended.

  
“I am taking lessons from a retired master,” he said vaguely, “and he will return from business only today. His house isn’t far from here, so I thought we could stop by.”

  
I tapped my chin, humming. It was true that today would be rather squeezed—we were bound to get stalled by officials again—but it shouldn’t last later than 2pm. And the insurance office was in the same building. I wish I knew how to drive, it wouldn’t take that long then, but alas, we couldn’t have everything.

  
I checked my watch. 6:30AM. If I remembered correctly, the office opened at 7, so if we went now, it was possible to end before noon. Then we could stop by the supermart, head home for lunch, and have plenty time to spare. I could probably send the mofuku for cleaning and get some accounting done while he took his time with his teacher.  
“Have you visited him alone before?”

  
He nodded confidently.

 

“Right then,” I clapped my hands, “Let’s get the things done early and you can go in the afternoon—how long do you need?”

  
A little disbelieving, he replied, “An hour or so.”

  
I scratched my head, “That’s probably fine. We’ll set the time for me to pick you up later on. For now, let’s mosey.”

  
xXXx

  
Kyoya watched Izumi with interest. She had been nervous and tensed just minutes ago, but now she was determinedly questioning the official about this clause and that asset and this amount of money. It was a relief that she had been finally directed to one of the competent people in this building, and that he had proved willing to answer all her questions and assist in procedures once she showed that she was no lamb to be led blindly.

  
Within a surprisingly short amount of time, they had settled most of hi—their affairs: the accounts, the payments to his school and maintenance of the house and his parents’ other properties. He watched her smile widen as each decision was passed.

  
He admitted, if he’d had to deal with all these things, he wouldn’t have known where to start. And young as she was, she had an ability to make people treat her seriously. Whether it was the set of her shoulders or the look on her face, even the idiots who had barged in the house found themselves deferring to her.

  
Or maybe it was the fruits of a huge effort to be in the know, to understand what exactly was going on, endless hours of tireless research and repeated practices of her arguments in front of the mirror.

  
“Alright, Kyoya,” she beamed at him with a thick stack of papers in hand, “We’re done! We don’t even have to stop by the insurance office because he’ll take care of it for us! Isn’t that great?”

  
He gave the man an appreciative nod, which was returned. From the corner of his eye, he saw Izumi roll her eyes. As she carefully tucked the papers into her bag, he checked his watch. 10:15AM. Much earlier than she had anticipated.  
Izumi bowed again, took his hand and nearly skipped out in joy. “We’ve got time now,” she said, squeezing his hand gleefully, “We’ll stop by the supermart stock up for this week, reach home by noon and eat lunch—what do you want to eat anyway? I can cook normal Japanese food and some Western dishes, but nothing too complicated. Then I’ll send the mofuku for dry cleaning and deal with some of the payments while you’re at your teacher’s place. If you want to stay longer, we’ll agree to a later time—I’ll just clean up the house a little and maybe do the laundry.”

  
Kyoya digested the excited spiel wryly—he’d realized that Izumi had a habit of planning things out loud—but was able to reply quickly enough, “Japanese. If I can stay an hour longer it’ll be good.”

  
She hummed, “Alright, how does grilled salmon sound? With rice and miso and pickles.” Idly, she pulled him to her left so that she was nearer the road side of the pavement. “I’ll bring you over at 1 and pick you up at 3:15, that good?”

  
They were both more than he expected, and he nodded. She ruffled his hair again, grinning from ear to ear, “Good. I’m so happy we’ve gotten most of the things sorted out.”

  
He snorted. _I know._

  
xXXx

  
As we pushed our trolley of groceries home, I felt myself smile. It was really relieving to have most of the legal issues out of the way. That counted the bulk of the things I had to do. The goal to wrap everything up by the weekend was getting closer.

  
I glanced at the stubborn boy beside me. He had insisted on helping me push the trolley home and had glared at me until I gave him. Really too cute. I had to resist the urge to pinch his cheeks, I had a feeling that it’d be way over his limit of things-I-let-the-crazy-woman-do-to-me-because-I-owe-her.

  
It was wonderful that he wasn’t a brat (or well, a brat in the normal sense). He was a little too serious, but he had his heart in the right place and I didn’t have to guide him too much. I praised his parents for instilling him with values early, and actually making them stick. Lord knew I was a little hellion at his age.

  
That said, it would be a bit difficult living up to the high standard that had been set.

  
Okay, it would be torture.

  
I’d have to give up on my laziness and really buckle down and force myself to be diligent and meticulous and sharp. Neither of which I was particularly good at naturally. It had been backbreaking doing the research for all the legal mumbo jumbo and trying to fit the basics of accounting in my brain. And it was still nerve-wracking talking to adults. Peeving too, whenever they tried to treat me like a child and skim over things. I counted it an accomplishment every time I managed to leave without losing my temper.

  
As I looked at the boy determinedly pushing on beside me, I sent a silent prayer to all our collective relatives to watch over us and give me strength.

  
As was usual when there was time to spare, my mind buzzed with things to do. Being the only person planning, it was always best to go over things methodically by either location or a certain category so that fewer things were missed. I was a bit sick of worrying over things in Namimori, and since most of the paperwork had been done, I decided to plan out my trip to Tokyo.

  
I had to call my friends back in Tokyo to tell them I was moving, I realized with a jolt. There were scarce few of them, but they were good pals who had helped me through my own ordeal. All of them had helped me research or gotten their parents to help me get emancipated.

  
It was a good thing I had already dealt with the phone bill payments this morning. My own had died because I had forgotten to bring the charger.

  
And that brought me to another matter.

  
“Kyoya, I need to go back to Tokyo for a bit to sort out a few things,” I said, watching as he stiffened. “I’m not too sure if I should leave you here or bring you along. What do you think? I’m going to be pretty busy over there so you might get bored following me around. I’ll get someone to take care of you if you’re staying here.”

  
He eyed me before turning back, “When are you leaving?”

  
“With the way things are going, probably the tomorrow,” I admitted. “I want to get things done by this week before you resume class.”

  
“How long will it take?”

  
“Not more than 2 days. Travel to Tokyo is only 2 hours by train, so I can go in the morning or afternoon, stay overnight, and be back the next afternoon or evening.”

  
He pondered for a while longer, but didn’t seem as tensed as before. We walked on in silence a little more before he spoke up. “I’ll go with you.”

  
I smiled. I hadn’t really wanted to leave him with a stranger anyway, even if it was someone who had known his family, “Alright. I’ll help you pack after the visit.”

  
xXXx

  
Izumi wasn’t the best cook, but she was passable. Kyoya chewed the salmon slowly. A little saltier than how Grandmother used to do it, but still edible. And she hadn’t burnt anything, so he guessed it was fine. He could get used to it for the next few years. Somewhat.

  
“Any comments?” She grinned at him cheekily as she bit into her own fish. “I know I’m no gourmet chef, so you can tell me what’s wrong.”

  
He hadn’t realized that she could read his expression. Quickly, he schooled his features.

  
He looked up. She was still looking at him.

  
“It’s a little salty,” he muttered, turning his head. He really needed to work on controlling his expressions if the woman was already learning how to read him after a few days.

  
“Phew,” she chuckled, “Not too bad I guess. No comments on the miso?”

  
“You added too little paste.”

  
“The rice?”

  
He glared.

  
Her lips quirked.

  
They ate the rest of the meal in comfortable silence. When she got up to clear the dishes, he stood to help. She didn’t stop him, so he carried the bowls to the sink while she took the plates and utensils. She ruffled his hair in thanks before grabbing the sponge.

  
_Hn._

  
It took her a while to realize that he wasn’t going anywhere, as he stood stock still beside her and stared. She stared, hands still scrubbing vigorously. He didn’t look away. Finally, she rolled her eyes and jerked her head at the hand towel before carefully passed him a clean plate.

  
_Hn._

  
They rested for a while as she made an itinerary for the trip. He watched her as she wrote down a list for him to pack—she didn’t need to pack anything since most of her things were there. She was quick and methodical, listing them by categories. In less than 10 minutes, she had written and double-checked it. She passed it to him.

  
Then she started on the list for herself to bring. It was a little more unusual and he tilted his head to look. She must have noticed because she beckoned him over and began to explain. She was rather good at that, he noted. She picked up the smallest things. Perhaps it wasn’t so much his lack of control but her watchfulness.

  
He listened attentively. Most of it was common sense, some of it weren’t applicable to a regular vacation/business trip, but all were useful and thus, worth learning about. He hadn’t thought that they’d need to bring empty luggage bags to put her things in.

  
She had a knack for explaining things. Her voice was clear and her words were simple. Understandable. She didn’t baby her language but she didn’t use long unneeded words either. She’d make a good teacher, he thought, and repeated it out loud.

  
“Hmm?” She looked at him incredulously, “Me, a teacher? No way. I have absolutely no patience to deal with a bunch of kids and I’d sooner yell at them and make them cry than teach them stuff.”

  
That was strange. She’d been very patient and calm with him the whole time. He raised an eyebrow.

  
“You’re different,” She rolled her eyes, “I can treat you like a mini-adult because you already act like a little old man. If I had to stay in the same room as a group of screaming brats I’d shoot myself.”

  
Just because he acted maturely did not mean he was old. There was a difference, just as there was a difference between well-mannered and ill-educated. It was a matter of upholding the family name and not bringing shame to his parents for his upbringing.

  
“Keep telling yourself that,” she said loftily, flapping her hand at him.

  
He growled.

  
She wagged a finger, “Down boy.”

  
“I’ll bite you to death!”

  
“That’s just supporting my point.”

  
“Grrrr…”

  
“Another point.”

  
“…Hmph.”

  
“Good boy.”  
  



	5. Chapter 5

The person we were to meet was called Hiroto-san, Kyoya told me. He'd been teaching him his 'art' for a few years now, since before his parents died. They had lessons every weekend, or whenever they had spare time, but most of them were erratic due to Hiroto-san's work. Or business. Or whatever he does when he leaves town. Even Kyoya wasn't very clear on it.

It was fishy. I was kind of hesitant, but he'd known the Hibari family for a while now, so I guessed it was fine.

The moment I met the guy though, I knew it was _not_ fine.

One thing you learn once you start dealing with people is how to _read_ people. Or at least, you start developing that little gut feeling that tells you if this dude was a nice guy or a sneaky scoundrel out to rip you off. If you were 'lucky' like I was you get to meet a more colorful variety of people and thus your gut will evolve accordingly. Like if a person was a nice guy, sneaky scoundrel, or someone who could genuinely _fuck you up._

It must _really_ run in the family.

Hiroto-san was a kindly middle-aged man with slightly greying hair and warm brown eyes.

He was also a _yakuza._

I sighed. I was going to have a long talk with Kyoya after this. Ugh.

"Good afternoon, Hibari-kun," Hiroto-san greeted with a solemn frown, "I heard what happened to Hibari-sama. I'm surprised you're here for lessons."

Kyoya bowed, surprising me a little. His reply, not so much. "Hn."

The man turned to me, eyes narrowing a little, "And this is the ojou-san whose care you are under."

I bowed elegantly (hours and hours of practice), "I am Tojita Izumi, Kyoya's cousin from Tokyo. Pleased to meet you." My gut was quivering a little. People from the underground were hard to predict. On one hand, they could be perfectly normal and nice, on the other, they could kill someone who got on their nerves without changing expressions. I've _seen_ it.

What I wasn't expecting was the warm smile.

He beamed at me, "I have heard only good things about you since my return this morning. It is a pleasure to meet such a strong-willed young lady." He bowed low—lower than someone like him should ever bow to someone like me.

I shot Kyoya a puzzled look. He shrugged. _We are so going to have that talk later._

"I am glad that Hibari-kun has you," Hiroto-san continued, "I am sure he will do well under your guidance and care."

_You have to be shitting me._

The look on my face must have conveyed my thoughts, because he burst into chuckles. "It is a good sign when the parent questions her abilities. It paves the path for further improvement."

_P-parent…?_

I felt a little faint.

_I'm a little too young to be a mother… And this isn't exactly… I mean… I'm not… I'm just taking care of him until he's old enough…_ _**Technically** _ _it's called an adoption, but…_

I shot Kyoya a look, _don't you dare ever call me mom._

He rolled his eyes _._ I was reassured.

I turned back to the crazy old man who was smiling fondly at us.

_Okaaaaaayyyy._

"Alright, I'll be back at 3:15 to pick you up. Enjoy your lesson." I piped up, patting Kyoya's shoulder. I sketched another bow, and continued, "Please look after Kyoya. Forgive me for not staying but there are still matters I have to attend to."

And then, thanking the heavens that I had not accepted the invitation to step inside for tea, I turned on my heel and began striding home.

xXXx

"Interesting person, your new parent," Hiroto commented as they watched Izumi all but flee from the area. She'd been very polite and proper about it, but it had been obvious.

"She is not my parent," Kyoya informed his teacher.

The old coot raised an eyebrow, "She looks after you. She feeds you, cloths you, teaches you. Is that not what a parent does?"

He scowled, "That does not make her my _parent._ "

"Oh? What does that make her then?" Hiroto challenged, "A guardian is just another word for parent. Just because she did not bear you, does not make her any less your parent. After all, she is doing this without any benefit to herself, is she not?"

Not for the first time, Kyoya wondered _why_ Izumi had decided to go through with the adoption. He could still remember the day she had entered his home with papers in hand and her crazy plan in mind. He'd pushed her away, but she had persisted. She'd talked about what would happen to him if the adoption did not happen—foster care—but she hadn't said a word about the benefits _she_ would receive.

From his observation, nothing at all.

She'd had to lose sleep managing his affairs, was _still_ losing sleep doing that actually. She'd been stressed and weary from worrying about things, about the funeral, about the wake, about the paperwork. She'd even done the chores and cooked their meals. And from what he understood, she'd given up furthering her studies in order to find a job to support him.

_Why_ _**does** _ _she do it?_

He couldn't understand how she could sacrifice so much for someone she hadn't even _known._ They were relatives in only the vaguest sense of the word.

Hiroto was looking at him with a satisfied smile on his face, as if he had won their argument. Kyoya huffed. Izumi was his guar—no, the old coot had said it had the same meaning… caretaker, no she did more than that. _Legal_ guardian? …that didn't give her enough credit either.

…Hn.

He glared.

_That sly old…_

The man chuckled, but had the sense to move on, "Come, let's see if you have been practicing with your tonfa."

_I will bite you to death._

xXXx

It was the first time in the past few days that I had been apart from Kyoya. I hadn't realized how used to his presence I had gotten.

I made a few calls and got screamed a bit by my friends, most of whom were a little stunned that I was going to up and leave so soon. All of them were a little incredulous that I had adopted a kid, but they were very helpful. They'd also demanded to meet my new ward.

We arranged a meeting in the afternoon for lunch—looks like we would be taking the morning train after all. Hopefully they wouldn't swamp Kyoya. The kid was really cute…

I called my landlord who wasn't too happy with me for cancelling the contract, but when he heard that a relative had died he was a lot more sympathetic. I was allowed to stay the night _and_ my deposit wouldn't be forfeit! I only had to pay for a week's rent and that was all! I could have kissed the guy.

I spent the next hour or so doing the accounts—the lawyer had been paid, the utility bills settled, this week's groceries, and administration fees for all the paperwork… and the funeral fees. That totaled a whopping ¥87,000. I cringed a little.

Fortunately, most of the funeral had been paid for with insurance money. Kyoya's parents' and grandmother's wills had clauses covering administration and legal fees so those would not be hitting us either. The monthly allowance from the Hibari accounts would not start until next month so I would be covering the rest… which added to ¥25,000 thereabouts. Still a little steep, but within my means. Without touching my inheritance, I mean.

I checked for replies for my job applications too. I'd been rejected by a majority of desk jobs and all managerial positions as well as teaching ones—I _told_ Kyoya I wouldn't make a good teacher. There were seven replies for interviews, which I hurried to answer. 2 were as clerks, 3 were as sales personnel while another 2 were for telemarketing.

I prayed that I would get a clerk job. I was no good at speaking to people and selling things. I wouldn't _dare_ call random people just to promote a product—I was one of the people who slammed the phone the minute I got one.

But I agreed to interviews for all of them anyway. I wasn't in the position to be picky.

I sighed as I searched for a place to stick my note to practice for the interviews after the trip. I had done part-time jobs before, but this was going to be a full-time thing which _had_ to last me the next few years. I _had_ to get a job.

Terror seized me, tightening my chest and sending tremors down my spine. My hands shook and my head swam…

I took a breath, slapped myself, pinched my cheeks and went to find something to do.

_Chin up, girl._

xXXx

Kyoya entered his home to see Izumi cleaning furiously.

She was scrubbing the wooden floorboards, the ones behind gleaming brighter than he had ever seen them. On the clothesline, their laundry swayed in the breeze. The garden had also been raked.

Hiroto coughed.

"Oh!" She exclaimed, "I thought I was to pick you up at 3:15?" She checked the clock beside her worriedly. "It's not time yet…"

"We finished his tonfa lessons early," Hiroto explained, "I offered to walk him back—I used to do the same when Hibari-sama was still alive…"

Kyoya glared.

"Tonfa lessons?" Izumi echoed, her expression unreadable even as her eyes swept over him. He resisted the urge to cover the bruises.

Hiroto continued obliviously, "Yes, Hibari-kun seems to have kept up his practice. He is turning out to be a very proficient fighter, though we kept it from his grandmother because she—" He broke off as Kyoya trod on his foot.

"I saw that, Kyoya," she stated flatly as she approached. When she was standing in front of him, she huffed, "I don't really mind that you're taking martial arts if that's what you're so worried about—what? What's that look for?" She rolled her eyes, "No, seriously. I think it's good for you and you learn discipline and all that—what is with you and your disbelief? Not all women think that fighting's bad, you know?"

Kyoya ignored Hiroto's chuckle as he relaxed. He could continue his lessons after all.

"Was _that_ why you were all stiff and awkward when you asked me if we could visit him?" Izumi said dryly, "Because you thought I'd break down and cry and bitch about you getting hurt?"

When she put it like _that…_

She looked at the sky in exasperation. She was prone to such _dramatics_ , he grumbled. Patronizingly, she patted his head, "If I'm ever going to have a breakdown or a meltdown or burst into tears I'll warn you first, okay? _And_ I'll teach you beforehand how to deal with it."

Hiroto quipped, "That would indeed be useful. Could I join in the lesson too?"

He growled at the old badger. It was probably the first time anyone had ever treated him so informally. Even Grandmother, who had been the most affectionate, had never teased him or bantered with him like Izumi did. She'd also never touched him as much.

She had maneuvered him so that her arms hung loosely over his shoulders. Her chin rested on his head again. "I'll have to charge you," she shot back, much more relaxed than the previous encounter, "Kyoya's family, so he gets to learn for free."

He felt his ears burn at the casual admission. Hiroto chuckled again, studying him as if he had turned into a particularly exotic specimen of those crickets he kept.

He growled again.

Unfortunately, that attracted her attention. "Kyoya?" She looked down.

He ducked out of sight. "What the? Kyoya?"

He ran inside the house, evading further embarrassment. He heard her apologize for his actions and Hiroto say something about children being children in a tone which he had _never_ used on Kyoya in all the time he had known him before he took his leave.

Stupid old coot.

"Kyoya…?" Izumi called again, confused. "Where are you?" And maybe a little worried.

Now that wouldn't do.

He mastered his expression before plodding out from behind the vase with the silver cranes. To his shock, she hurried forward, cupping his face in her hands. "Was it something I said?" she demanded worriedly. "Did that old man do something?" She examined his face closely, "Why did you run off like that?"

There went his calm. He could feel his cheeks heat up as blood rose to his face.

Izumi blinked.

Her hands were preventing him from looking away, but that didn't mean he didn't _try._ Abruptly, she released him.

" _Ah._ "

He turned his head away.

"Ah," she repeated, "you're embarrassed, aren't you?"

He covered his face with his arms and growled. It was the first time he had been so humiliated. And the damned blush wouldn't _go away._

She pulled him close again, gently prying his arms from his face. It was _only_ because she wasn't laughing or stifling a grin that he allowed her to remove them. "What did I say?" she asked again.

_It's stupid._

"C'mon, I won't laugh and I want to know. Maybe I won't say it again?"

_It won't happen again even if you say it. Just forget it!_

"But I still want to know."

_NO._

"Fine, I'm just going to repeat everything I said," she retorted, trapping his face in her hands again. "I'll have to charge you. Kyoya's family, so he gets to learn for free."

His face betrayed him again.

"Kyoya's family."

He struggled to turn away.

"Kyoya's family."

He was seriously going to _bite her_ if she kept it up.

"Awww seriously?" She grinned—it was _not_ _**funny**_ —at him, "You just keep getting more and more adorable! _Annnd_ cue pout."

_He was not pouting!_

"Face it, kid. On a face like that, it's a pout. You won't progress to 'frowning' until you pass the cute stage. Which is still a few years away."

She pulled him into a hug. _What was with this woman and—_ "I'm glad, you know?" She grinned down at him, "That means that _you_ accept it too."

_He wasn't—he didn't—it wasn't… It—it—UGH Stop making such a big deal out of it!_

"Okay, okay, no sappy _feelings_ stuff," she said, sticking her tongue out at him, "If I go on any further you'll probably spontaneously combust—that means explode—in embarrassment." She ruffled his hair, "Alright, go take a shower. You stink. I'll finish cleaning and we can pack for tomorrow."

He blinked. He'd honestly thought she'd continue torturing him.

"Oh don't worry, when you grow up, I'll never let you forget it." She winked, standing up and walking back to continue scrubbing the floors.

He flushed again and fled to his room, her words ringing in her ears.

_When you grow up._


	6. Chapter 6

I was beginning to get an idea of what a business trip was like. Even better, I had jumped straight to the more advanced version of business trip _a_ _t the break of freaking_ _ **dawn.**_ W _ith a_ _**kid**. Who had never been out of town before._ Scratch that, I had skipped to _monster_ mode while bypassing all the tutorials and not collecting the powerful weapons.

It was coming to the point that I was wondering why on earth I had thought bringing him along was a _good_ idea. I definitely could survive 2 days and a night without him. _He_ could definitely survive 2 days and a night without me with Hiroto-san. In fact, he'd probably be _happier._

Kyoya was _homesick._

Before he even _left_ town.

 _And_ he was _grumpy._

Because it was even earlier than his usual waking time.

So here we were, in the freezing cold, waiting for the train to arrive in 10 minutes with 2 huge (although mostly empty) luggage bags and a backpack each, and Kyoya, to my horror, was _whining._

_I didn't even think the kid had that setting._

He was pouting.

He was scowling at my hand like he'd really like to take a bite out of it.

He was also pulling on my coat and trying to sleep while standing by propping his forehead against my hip which would have been freaking cute if he wasn't also muttering death threats under his breath while complaining about everything. From the cold to the sky to having to stand to his backpack being heavy.

Okay, it was freaking cute anyway but I wasn't exactly in the mood to appreciate it or act cheery this morning. I had forgotten to get coffee from the supermart so all I had to keep me up was a cup of green tea, which, to all coffee-drinkers, was just not the same. It was like _meh_ compared to _whoo!_ and there was no _ahhhh_ after that.

But again, I reminded myself that I was an adult and Kyoya was, after all, still a child, and I could not allow myself to degenerate to his level even though I desperately wanted to. So I sighed, squished him a little closer, stroked his hair as guardian-ly as possible, and said, "Just 10 more minutes and you can sleep until we reach Tokyo, okay? I reserved seats so we won't be standing the whole way and we can put the bags down."

_Thank god for that. I was going to stand, but luckily I changed my mind because of him._

"Why did you have to book the _six o' clock train,_ " he demanded, sniffling a little from the cold. "And why's it taking _so long._ "

_Kami-sama give me patience._

"We have to leave early so that we can get all my things sorted out, remember?" I repeated kindly, doing my best to ignore that I was sounding like my mom on my first trip overseas. Well, at least it had been an _overseas_ trip, and not just a train ride out of town! "If we go in the afternoon or even late morning we'd have to delay our return for another day and you don't want that, do you?"

"Better than waking up so _early,_ " the brat mumbled into my side. _Argh._

Rolling my eyes until they were nearly falling out of their sockets, I took a deep breath. A look at the clock showed that we had 8 more minutes to go.

_Ughhhhh._

He sniffled again. I dug in my pockets and handed him my handkerchief. He took it, glared at me balefully, and blew his nose like a fog horn. Then he snootily passed it back, glared at me for good measure, and dropped his head back on my hip with a _thump._

_The joys of children indeed. I will never have children. Ever._

"Oh my," a voice behind me whispered, "Such a young girl. I wonder if she's his older sister?"

"No way," another female declared in a hushed voice, "they don't look alike at all!"

"But see how she's caring for him? _Surely_ they are family!"

"Well… she could be an older cousin."

"Or maybe…"

"Perhaps…"

"You know how children take after only one parent…"

"It's possible…"

"Do you think…?"

_Argh, why don't you just say straight out that you think I'm a young mother and that you think I'm a slut and ill-educated and a disgrace to my family!_

"SHUT UP!"

I glanced down.

Kyoya was glaring daggers at the two gossipy harpies. And it wasn't his _you-are-such-a-moron-why-do-I-put-up-with-you_ glare that he usually gave me. It was the _who-the-hell-are-you-I-will-_ _ **keel**_ _-you_ glare that I had forgotten about. The one he gave me the first time we met.

Turns out that it worked just as well on overly-chatty old biddies, and it soothed my ego that I wasn't the only one who thought it was _evil._ They didn't even huff or made excuses, they just got the hell out of dodge. I restrained Kyoya just in case he was going to chase after them like the little rabid bloodhound he resembled at the moment.

Good thinking.

He threw himself forward _just_ after I gripped his collar. I think he choked a little, but at least I didn't have to be subjected to a scene and the commotion that would follow. Or so I thought.

Too bad he thought otherwise.

"Let me GO!"

"Calm down, Kyoya."

"NO! LET ME GO!"

"Idiot. Just let _them_ go."

"NO! I'll BITE THEM TO DEATH!"

By then, every single person who was at the station had turned to stare at the howling wild child and the girl gripping tightly on his collar and digging her heels into the ground.

"Kyoya!" I hissed, "Stop it this instant! You're making a scene!"

He ignored me, straining and screaming. I was _this_ close to slapping him.

_Don't hit._ _**Child.** _

Instead, with a forceful jerk, I pulled him to my side, flipped him around to face me, and squished him into my chest as hard as possible. It was a good thing I was wearing a thick coat or I would have bruised my ribs from the impact.

_Strong, hard-headed brat._

I let him scream and thrash, muffled by the thick fabric. It took a while, and a lot of arm strength, but he finally subsided.

Well, subsided enough that I could only hear faint growls.

I sighed, "I'll let go but you have to promise to keep _calm,_ understand?"

The nod was nearly imperceptible against my hands. When I released him, he glared. And sniffed. I rolled my eyes and dug out the hanky again but he ignored it in favor of maintaining his _evil_ glare. Which was actually more insulted and wounded than anything.

_Oh, come_ _**on** _ **.** _Do I have to turn this into a Kodak moment or something?_

"People talk crap about everything and everyone," I said, holding his wrists gently. "They're just sad like that and we shouldn't let them get under our skin so easily. It doesn't matter what they think because we'll never see them again and even if we do we know it's just nonsense."

He was still glaring.

I looked up. _Kami-sama please seriously give me the biggest batch of patience you have. Why you make this kid so_ _ **stubborn**_ _. Bah._

"I'm glad you defended me, Kyoya." I cupped his face—this was seriously turning into a sapfest—and smiled, "That matters to me and I'm glad you care. That's _all_ that matters to me. So stop being upset, m'kay? C'mon… gimme a nice non-smile?"

_Ah crap, I've degenerated into baby talk. And coddling. Aghhhh._

His lips wavered a little from the scowl, which just made him try to scowl even more, but that was alright. His glare was just a _you-are-such-an-embarrassment_ one now. He huffed, grabbed the hanky, blew into it again, and dropped it back into my palm. I couldn't roll my eyes enough.

A whistle caught my attention. The mini-uproar had wasted away the last 8 minutes and the train had arrived.

_Oh, thank_ _**god.** _

xXXx

My friend Ayumi had volunteered to pick us up at the station. She had a car, I had two bulky luggage bags and a kid. I agreed immediately.

"OHMYGOSHHE'SSOCUTEEEEEEEE!"

It was a good thing I had prepared Kyoya for this. Even the little glare-master took a step back at Ayumi's squeal of Moe. I held an arm out just in case she charged him. Or scooped him up. Or anything that would have prompted a 'bite you to death' _._

"Kyoya, my friend Ayumi. Ayumi, my cousin Kyoya."

"…"

"SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

My ward shot me an _are-you-serious-what-is-this-person-on_ glare. I returned with a deadpanned _I-warned-you-you-said-you-could-take-it_.

"Ohmygosh, you are soooo cute, Kyo-chan~~~"

Okay, apparently that was too much. He growled.

I eyed him warily just in case he attacked, and hurried to prevent a massacre, "Ayumi, don't call him that. Seriously. _I_ don't call him that."

"Kyo-kun?"

Snarl.

"Kyo-chin?"

Growl.

"Kyoya-kun?"

Still a growl. The deathglare didn't abate at all.

I traded looks with my friend. "His surname's Hibari."

"…Hibari-kun?"

Glare.

Wack. "Okay, that's enough. She's older and it's already proper. Drop it."

"Drop. It."

"I'm serious. Drop it."

" _Drop it right now."_

"Kyoya, she's a very good friend of mine. She may be overly excitable but she's a decent person. So _drop the glare_."

"Thank you."

I turned back to my stunned friend, "Nice to meet you too. Can we get in the car now?"

xXXx

"I thought you said he was a _good_ kid," Ayumi hissed as we dragged the luggage bags up to my apartment. Behind her, Kyoya bared his teeth. I gave him a warning look.

Turning back to her, I rolled my eyes, "I meant 'good' as in 'not a hassle to care for'. Not 'good' as in 'sweet, wide-eyed cherub'. He _is_ ten years old. That's waaay over the age of listening like a good widdle boy."

"Still cute though. Pity about the glare."

"I think the glare's cool. He'll be _scary_ in a few years."

"… Only you would like something like that…"

"Because I can stand on the sidelines and cackle madly while everyone flees."

"What makes you think he won't glare at _you?_ "

"I'm assuming that being present as it develops would have immunized me by that time."

"…Lucky bitch."

SNARL.

"KYOYA! IT'S OKAY. WE CALL EACH OTHER BITCHES ALL THE TIME!"

"AHHHH CALL HIM OFF CALL HIM OFF CALL HIM OFFFFFFFFF!"

xXXx

Kyoya was irritated. Tokyo was crowded, noisy and filled with the _strangest_ people. He'd passed by a guy with a _pink Mohawk._

He eyed his cousin carefully. She was from this city too…

"Thank you _so much_ , Mrs. Tanaka! That's all the stuff I had to take care of today and it's not even _lunch_ yet! Thank you!" She bowed to her _friend's_ mother who had tagged along and provided both transportation and advice. She had even offered to negotiate on their behalf as an adult, but Izumi had turned her down, citing the need to learn things herself.

In comparison to the group of friends who had joined them in the café, she stood out for her maturity and levelheadedness. He supposed if she had been similar to them, he probably wouldn't even be here right now. They would never have managed to pass the first round of questioning for the adoption.

But despite her contrasting personality, she seemed to fit seamlessly into the gaggle of teenage girls. They chatted over school, over favorite songs, anime, drama series, just about anything under the sun. She'd laughed and teased good-naturedly, and true to her words, called them _bitches_ just as much as they called her. Amongst other fouler words.

Was this what being with friends was like? It was comfortable, he admitted. They were too loud and noisy and kept cooing over him or trying to touch him (Izumi, thankfully, kept them at bay) but they were warm and bright as well. They'd offered help, advice, even money to Izumi when they heard about their circumstances. She'd refused all of them, but he could see that they had been sincere.

One of them even offered to let the both of them stay in her home instead.

"Aw Kimi," Izumi beamed, "You already know I won't accept. You're staying with your mother and brother and it's packed enough without squeezing another person, much less two this time."

"It'd be fine," the sun-bleached-blonde insisted, "Stay with us! You can focus on your studies and we can take care of the both of you!"

His cousin snorted, "That would be too much to ask. Your mother already has her hands full with you and Daiki. She'd go crazy with me and Kyoya."

There was some joking and laughter, but the underlying words were apparent.

Kyoya decided that he could stand a little— _just a little—_ crowding and that as long as Izumi kept her arm around his shoulder and herself between the girls' grabby hands and him, he would sit stoically and nurse his hot milk. And ignore the cooing.

When the meeting ended, they all stood up—the bill had been snatched out of Izumi's hands and none of them would take her money. Surrounding them in a circle of seven, they crowded closer and hugged the both of them. A few wept, others sniffled.

He looked up at Izumi who had her arms around him again. She was teary-eyed but calm as she bade her friends goodbye. A few would still be seeing her off the next day, but others would not be able to make it and this would be their last meeting for a time. Kyoya kept silent as each of them embraced her (squishing him in the middle) and murmured words. He could see why she had considered them such good friends and insisted on making time for them while planning the trip.

"Make sure you watch out for yourself."

"Take care and be careful, call me whenever you get in trouble. Or just call me whenever."

"If you need help, _call me._ Or text. Or e-mail. I'll put you on high priority so I'll get alerted."

"You can _always_ stay over, m'kay? If you ever decide to. Just call. Or come over immediately."

"Don't just call me—visit darnit! Or gimme your address and I'll come over!"

"What she said—give your address and phone number. _I'll_ call _you_ and visit too."

"If you need someone to take care of him, you can ask me. Just drop him off with a note if you're in a rush. No worries."

By the end of it, Izumi was sniffling slightly. Kyoya wondered if he needed to search her pockets for the handkerchief. "D'aww guys. Stop talking like we'll never see each other again! It's just a train ride away—two hours thereabouts—and my phone's on twenty-four seven." She sniffed and wiped her face, "Now look, you've made me cry. How's Kyoya gonna respect me anymore?"

A few snorts accompanied his. He traded looks with them.

Hn.

"Oh _stop it,"_ she muttered wryly, "He's bad enough without you guys corrupting him against me. I'm getting him out of your horrible influence before he gets worse."

"Yeah _right._ "

" _My horrible influence?_ "

"Oh please, we are such _wonderful influenzas_."

"Yeah, we're absolutely tooth-achingly sweet."

"Like _dengue._ "

"Like _cavities._ "

He smirked at her exasperated expression, "I'll bite you to death."

"Ha!" "Ha!"

"Yesssss, come to the darrrrkkkkk siddeeeee."

"We haz cookies!"

"Ugh. We're getting out of here you tooth-decaying fungi! Shoo! Begone!"

"But don't you luuurrrvvveee us?"

"Don't you just addoowwwee uss?"

"Get away! Shoo!"

Slinging him around her hip, Izumi mock-ran a few steps before the two jokers, Midori and Aoi, pounced on them, eliciting fake squeals of horror and cries for help. The other five gathered around and separated them, making ridiculous poses as they declared their 'super-hero names'.

"We shall not allow you villains to corrupt this pure-hearted angel of whitey marshmallowy goodness!"

Izumi was still carrying him against her hip, grinning from ear to ear as she cheered, "Yes! Thank you Magical Barbies of Supreme Gooeyness!"

"Instead, we'll take him for ourselves!"

"What—no!"

"Get them!"

"Ahhhh! Runnnn!"

Okay, Kyoya admitted as he shifted himself onto her back. So maybe they were a little more than tolerable.


	7. Chapter 7

It was a good thing Kyoya was still a child. The single bed would never have fitted the two of us if he'd been any bigger. _And_ it would have been awkward.

As it is, I woke up to fluffy hair tickling my nose. We'd maneuvered around each other so that he fitted just a little under my chin and his head rested on my arm—thank Kami-sama it was nearly weightless, I'd slept over with Kimi a few times and she'd cut off all blood to my arm.

I'd awoken early, but not _that_ early. The clock said 8:30AM. Kyoya didn't even twitch as I got out of bed. He must have been completely tuckered out from packing everything last night. We'd managed to fit all my belongings in the two luggage bags with a little space to spare. A good thing, since I was planning on shopping around a bit before we left.

Like coffee. The _good_ kind.

I'd checked my supply of food and found a quarter full tin of instant coffee, some creamer and a loaf of bread. Well, I'd just moved in and hadn't shopped for food yet.

I mixed a cup of coffee—ah, that hit the spot—and chewed a slice of plain bread. I checked the time again. 9:00AM. Kyoya was still snoozing peacefully.

_Hmm… might as well step out for a bit to buy some milk and butter for him._

Placing my cup in the sink, I stretched and yawned.

_Maybe get some bites for the train ride too…_

xXXx

The moment I stuck the key in and turned it, the door was flung open by a glaring Kyoya. And by glaring I mean _glaring._ Like, _Deathglare O' Doom_ glaring.

I stared.

"I'm back?"

He hadn't washed up at all. His hair was sticking up in little tufts and he was still in his pajamas. He looked like a little cat with all its hackles raised. My fingers twitched a little with the urge to ruffle his head. I wondered if he'd purr if I stroked his chin. Or maybe snap his teeth and try to munch my fingers off as he'd always threatened to do.

Without a word, he spun around and stormed back inside.

I stared.

"Uh, Kyoya? Did something happen?" I entered gingerly, not sure if he'd hiss and pounce on me in his rabid state. I heard the bathroom door slam shut.

I looked around. Nothing seemed out of place. My cup was still in the sink.

The blankets had been kicked off the bed though.

A wordless snarl of fury resounded from the bathroom. Okay, I jumped a little. "Is something wrong? What happened?"

Silence. Then low growls.

I thumped my head against the wall, "Kyoya, I do not actually speak Cavemanish. _Words,_ please."

More growls.

_Oi vey. This kid._

"Did something happen while I was gone? Why did you rush out of bed?"

Silence. Huh, usually he'd at least grunt or bark out something.

…This was actually rather familiar.

"Is this another one of those things that are embarrassing?"

More silence. Ah.

"Does it have to do with me going out?"

Incoherent mumbling. Yep.

_Embarrassing and to do with me leaving. Don't tell me. He missed me?_

I thumped my head again.

"Were you worried about where I'd gone?"

Snarls.

_Oi vey. This kid indeed. I'd be more touched if he didn't react like a wild animal that's frothing at the mouth._

"I'm sorry I didn't leave a note and made you worry. I'll make sure to inform you next time I leave okay?"

_Sincere tone, sincere tone. Absolutely no sarcasm._

Disgruntled growls and mutterings.

Then, another snarl.

"… You forgot to take your change of clothes inside, didn't you?"

"…"

_Guess I do speak Cavemanish after all._

xXXx

"Okay!" Izumi sighed in relief, "And that's the last of it. Phew."

She smiled and ruffled his hair, "Guess that settles things here, then. We're heading back to Namimori. After lunch, of course."

He glared.

"You _still_ haven't gotten over this morning?" She pouted, "I already apologized and said I wouldn't do it again!"

Glare.

"C'mon, Kyoya," She cajoled, hugging him with an arm, "Forgive me already? Pleeeeasssseeee?"

Glare.

She raised her eyes to the sky, "I have no choice. I resort to— _this._ "

And with that, she bent over and gave him a big wet kiss.

_EWW._

"Get away from me!"

"Not until you forgive me!"

"Stay away!"

"Forgiveeee meeeeee!"

"Stop—smooch— _kissing_ —smooch— _me!_ "

"Forgiiivvvveeeee!"

"Stop! I'll bite—no! Stop it!"

He swung his backpack between them, only to be blindsided and lifted into her arms. He squirmed as she puckered her lips.

" _Keep away from me!"_

As they descended, he flung his hands out and squeezed his eyes shut.

Instead, she pressed their foreheads together and smiled, "Do you forgive me now?"

His cheeks, scratch that, his _whole face_ felt hot. Even the tips of his ears. The infernal woman was using his weakness against him. He really felt as if he would spontaneously combust at any moment. He couldn't even look at her properly. Geh.

Argh she was staring at him. And she'd trapped his face _again._

"Hn."

_Fine. I'll forgive you._

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch the nuances in that grunt."

" _Hn._ "

_I said I'll forgive you._

"Pardon?"

He threw his arms up, nearly hitting her nose in the process, and roared.

"I FORGIVE YOU."

Then he crossed his arms and glared, breathing heavily. _This infuriating woman._

Gently, Izumi smiled again and—before he could react—pecked his cheek, "Thank you, Kyoya."

It was a little strange that that last kiss would tingle so much longer than all the others. He resisted the urge to duck his head.

_Bah._

xXXx

**~Lunch with Ayumi, Midori and Aoi~**

"NOOOOO I WON'T LET YOU LEAVE! I'LL KIDNAP HIBARI-KUN!"

"No. Get your own cousin. Mine."

"NOO! MINE ARE ALL BRATS. I WANT HIBARI-KUN!"

" _Mine._ Shoo!"

"HIBARI-KYUNNNNN!"

"Stay away from my cousin you moe-crazy witch!"

"Don't you want to come over to our side?"

"Don't you want to come over to the _dark_ side?"

"Not you two again! Stay away! He won't be corrupted by crazy witch minions!"

"What minions! I'm the magnificent Blazing Beast of Doom!"

"And I'm the Beatific Ballringer of Bombastic… Doom!"

"…Ballringer?"

"…Bombastic?"

"…Beatific?"

"Actually beatific's kind of _okay_ I guess… I still don't get what's a _ball_ ringer."

"Nu-uh! As my minion, that's too low-standard! It's not dastardly enough!"

"We're not your minions!"

"… And she used up all the cool 'b' words…"

"You could have used 'c' words."

"But I don't know any!"

"Someone get her a dictionary for Christmas…"

"Hn."

"Hey! Hibari-kun should be on our side!"

"Nu-uh. _Mine._ "

xXXx

"We're buying souvenirs for Kyoya. _Small accessories._ "

"But this mini-gakuran would look totally cute on him!"

"NO."

"I'll pay for it!"

"Okay."

"…Cheapskate…"

"What about this scarf? I like how the maroon goes with the tan color."

"No! This scarf is nicer! Olive green and Powder Blue!"

"Maroon and Tan!"

"Olive Green and Powder Blue!"

"Maroon and Tan!"

"Olive—oh for Naruto and Sailor Moon's sake, why are my lines so much longer?"

"Hah! I win! So how do you like it Hibari-kun?"

"Hn."

"Maroon is the reddish color. Tan is the light brownish one."

"…Psst, did you think that he was just agreeing to the choice too?"

"…Shhh…Yeah, I did. How does she _do_ that?"

"…Telepathy?"

"Nonono… you know all those manga stoic characters? The ones that only grunt and give monosyllabic answers?"

"…Yeah?"

"That's the trick! The spend-enough-time-in-their-presence-and-observe-their-facial-expressions trick!"

"Oh! …But his facial expression didn't change…"

"That's what you _think._ She probably read a thousand and one meanings from a single twitch."

"Oooooh."

"Shhh… He's watching. Let's go find something else."

**~10 Minutes later~**

"The joker duo wandered off. Better let them know that we're leaving."

"Kyoya, c'mon. We're heading over to the cashier."

Grunt.

"Yes, we're getting the _black_ scarf you want."

"Hn."

"Just a few more stores and we'll go somewhere quieter, kay?"

"…"

"…I can't believe you understood all that."

"I couldn't believe it the first time either. We actually have whole conversations like that."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. My home life will be now be filled with one-sided conversations and grunting or growling. It's like taking care of a wild beast than a kid."

Growl.

"You're emphasizing my point."

"Hn."

"I said _grunting_ or growling."

Glare.

"I said _one-sided conversations_ too."

"…I'll bite you to death."

"Oh right, and _that_ line."

"…Girl, that was scary. You can totally keep him now."

"… Thank you _so much_ …"

xXXx

"Why are you holding up a _dress?_ "

"Erm…"

"NO."

"B-but—"

"NO."

"He'd look really cute!"

"NO."

"Just a skirt?"

"NO."

"How about a ribbon?"

"NO."

"Cat ears?"

"NO."

"Geez, you two are exactly the same!"

"NO." " _Hn._ "

"See! You say 'no' and he says 'hn'!"

"I have a larger vocabulary than 'Hn', 'Grrr', 'Rawr', and 'I'll bite you to death', thank you very much."

Glare.

"It's the _principle_ of it. You both do the same things in an argument! You just keep spamming the same words! I wonder what an argument between both of you'd be like…"

"I'd win."

Growl.

"Stop growling. You know I will."

Growl.

"Don't make me use _it._ "

"…Hn."

"Woah. He actually backed down… Hey, what's _it_?"

"…"

"Hey, tell me! What's _it_?"

"…"

"Argh! Stop the silent treatment! I'll stop asking already! It's worse than the 'no' thing!"

"And this is how you vary your arguments according to your opponent to win."

"Hmm…"

"Take for example, this sample of Blibbering Humdinger that will babble on and on as long as you provide a response. As seen with the previous 'NO' argument that didn't work very well. On the other hand, it didn't last more than two rounds of silence."

"Hmm…"

"Oh god now there'll be two of them… IF YOU DESTROY HIS CUTE STOIC MOE APPEAL WITH THAT LOOPYNESS I WILL _HAUNT_ YOU."

"Hn…?"

" _HAUNT_. _YOU_."

"Ignore the Blibbering Humdinger, Kyoya."

xXXx

I adjusted the jacket covering Kyoya as he snoozed. Even that formidable stubbornness had fallen to the relaxing peace and quiet after the headache-inducing mayhem that was our hectic day out. I could tell he didn't like crowds or noisiness and we hadn't exactly been in the quiet parts of Tokyo city. Nor were my friends the quietest people, come to think about it.

It'd been a tiring trip. Productive though. All that was left was to get a job (meaning attend all the interviews) and meet Kyoya's teachers and principal. I yawned. Even _I_ was tuckered out from the day we'd had. After all, I'd packed as many activities as possible in the free time we had so that I could spend time with my friends.

By the end of it, most of them were getting along with him and had even gotten approval to pat his head.

Once.

Ayumi had tried ruffling his hair and gotten bitten.

It'd been fun, we'd spent some time shopping and hanging around the mall. I'd have to work off the amount of ice-cream and snacks I had consumed, though. Crepes and mocha and anpan. Kyoya had tasted everything, but it looked like he _really_ didn't like sweets. And here I was thinking there was no such thing as a kid who disliked sweets… So I'd bought fish crackers and takoyaki and shared an okonomiyaki with him instead.

I'll have to work those off too. Urp.

It was _really_ good meeting up again. And all of them too. The whole group hadn't met up since half a year ago, when my parents died.

Their sentiments had been exactly the same. Their offers for help too. It warmed my heart and bolstered my confidence. I wouldn't rely on them, but it was comforting to know that there was someone to turn to when I was in trouble.

I'm always thankful that our paths were crossed.

xXXx

Kyoya sighed softly in relief as he got off the train. It was just a short walk back home from there. Once his ears had adjusted back to normal levels, it had picked up the irritating hum of the train and he had woken up with an incessant buzzing in them.

The sky was still bright and sunny as they hauled the bags down the street. Izumi really didn't have many things in her apartment. He wondered what it said about her life that she could fit it into two luggage bags, but then he remembered the talk about her parents' deaths and how she'd kept most of their things away in a safe deposit box and decided it wasn't accurate.

Besides, she'd just moved in. He was sure that she'd clutter up the house soon enough with all the knick knacks she picked up from their trip.

She had good friends, he admitted. He hadn't seen the charm in them—they'd been _exactly_ like the gaggle of girls who whispered and gossiped in the school corners. It was only after (being forced to) spending time with them and watching them interact with his cousin that he realized their worth. That gave him some food for thought.

He supposed Izumi was right about not judging by appearance.

Ayumi was still an airhead though.

"Home sweet home!" Izumi announced as she dragged her bag—she had insisted on pulling the heavier one—into the house. "Okay! We can now RELAAAX. Phew." She flopped onto the ground. It was a good thing she'd cleaned the floors just before they left.

He nudged her with his shoe. Only to yelp as she grabbed his leg and dragged him down beside her.

Just as he was about to growl, she turned on her side and smiled, "So… how was your first trip out of Namimori?"

He recalled the cold morning wait, being greeted by Ayumi, being introduced to the rest of her boisterous friends, the jokes, the laughter, the games…

"Ayumi's an airhead," he stated dryly.

"Yes she is," she agreed, "But that's not all she is."

That, he had to admit.

Her hand had come up to play with his hair idly. He wasn't sure if she did it consciously now. He shrugged, "They're alright."

"You have such high standards," his cousin muttered, "They played catch and superhero with you in public and they're only 'alright'. Bah. Isn't showing proper appreciation part of being a good… whatever your parents wanted you to be?"

"…"

"Geez, stop making such a constipated face," Izumi grimaced, "I was just teasing you. I know you loved them."

_I did_ _**not** _ _—Hn._

"Oh, you're catching on. That's no fun," she complained. When he shot her a bland look, she tweaked his cheeks, releasing them before he could snap his teeth.

She giggled, "Did you _see_ their faces when they tried to get you to talk?"

"They were right in front of me," he retorted wryly.

"Aww, were you _shy?"_

Glare.

"Why _did_ you not speak, anyway?"

"…"

"Don't tell me I guessed it?"

" _I am not_ _ **shy.**_ _"_

She agreed wryly. Then blinked, "Wait… _Were you playing along with the joke?"_

"…"

Sniffing, she faked wiping a tear from her eye, "I'm… so… proud…" Then she added, "If you keep this up I'm won't be able to resist glomping you."

He rolled his eyes. She already did that all the time.

With a yawn, she rolled on her back and stretched, "Soooo! We've finished all the stuff we had to do. And with one day free to boot. I'm probably going to rest, but what are you going to do? Tonfa practice? Hey, maybe I could learn too!"

He snorted.

"Wha-at? Are you looking down on me? I could totally learn how to fight! I used to be kickass in sports, you know?"

"I know. I was just teasing you. You can beat me with one arm tied behind your back."

"I did not say—waaiiiitt, did you just _joke?!_ And with the same one I made? Oh my Kami-sama! It's a miracle! I have managed… humor! And not just any humor, _sarcastic_ humor! Hehehehe! Looks like I'm not so bad at this after all." She pumped her fist.

"You still need more training before you can even pass for a _normal_ parent." He snarked.

"Who said I wanted to be _normal_ —what?"

"Nothing." He got up and started walking away, "I'm going to take a shower."

"Wha-what? _Did you just say—Hibari Kyoya get back here this instant!_ "

"I said nothing!"

"Kyoya!"

_Slam._

"…Silly boy. He forgot to bring a change of clothes inside again."


	8. Chapter 8

_Ah Sunday… Day of Rest, Day without running around, Day of Sleeping In!_

I sighed blissfully as I stretched in bed. The clock blinked 7:30AM. It was early, but I didn't have to get up.

BAM.

"What the f—fishhhh?" I jumped in shock. Through the blood roaring in my ears, I could just make out my name. I blinked. "…Kyoya?"

"It is _late._ " He frowned at me severely, "You have overslept greatly."

_Arrrrghhhh this stuffy old mannnn…_

I slumped back onto my futon, "It's _Sunday._ "

"I do not see the significance."

 _Arguing is useless. Resistance is futile._ A voice drawled sarcastically in my head. It sounded suspiciously like Kyoya in a few years.

_Arguing IS useless. However…_

"You should get up right now." Somehow he managed to make that monotonous sentence sound like a threat.

"Kyoya."

"What is it?"

I waved my hand. "C'mere."

"What do—" I grabbed his arm the moment he was close enough and pulled. He tumbled right into my poor abused stomach. I huffed but recovered quickly enough to trap him in my arms.

For good measure, I hooked my leg over him as well.

"Get off!"

"Sleeeep!"

"Get UP!"

"SLEEEEEPPPPP!"

Growl.

"Shush."

"…"

"…?"

I looked down.

_Uh oh…_

Yeah, the EVIL glare was back again. Somehow, my immunity hasn't increased at _all._ I _did_ , however, noticed how he had forgone the usual growling and grunting like I'd 'taught' him to. Hn. Quick learner. I had to be careful with this kid. Who knows what I'd unleash on the world with all the techniques of arguing that I knew?

That aside, I had a different piece of wisdom to impart to this impatient little grasshopper.

"Kyoya, Sunday's a day of _rest,"_ I said, stifling a yawn. Before he could protest, I held up a hand.

He eased up a little, as he usually did when I indicated that I was going to explain something, but not by much. He was _still_ eyeing me like I was the laziest slob on earth. "That's undisciplined."

"Not really," I retorted, cracking my neck while keeping a cautious arm around him. I didn't trust him not to escape and exact revenge the moment I dropped my guard, the vindictive little brat, "Actually, it doesn't matter how early you wake up. Or how well scheduled your life is. What matters the most is _results._ "

"Would not being disciplined produce more results than being a slob?" he sniped, although he was now looking on in interest. Oh, now he was actually _calling_ me one. I rolled my eyes.

"Let's take this whole week as an example, m'kay?" I waved my hand, "Would you agree that we have accomplished an _incredible_ amount of work in just one week?" I counted them off with my fingers, "Just take a look—we've confirmed the adoption, finished all the legal stuff, gotten enough groceries for next week and even had time for a 2 day 1 night trip to Tokyo where we settled my affairs and still had about half a day of free time."

The boy nodded, brows furrowed.

"We woke up early then—and wasn't _that_ disciplined? But that's not the main point. We didn't _really_ have to wake up that early because we had spare time for you to visit Hiroto-san and me to clean the house. With some _more_ time left over. Which we didn't really do anything with." I waited until he nodded, "So, the _main point_ is that as long as you manage your time so that you have enough to do all the things you have to… _you can rest._ "

"And it isn't undisciplined," I added.

He blinked.

_Grahh. Mornings are not my best speech-making times… Or explanation times… Or just plain talking…_

I wracked my brain for another example-explanation-thingamabob.

"Today's Sunday right?" He nodded. "Do we have anything to do?"

"…" He frowned slightly as he pondered. Then he shook his head.

"Anything to make arrangements for?"

"…"

"And do you feel like going out to play or something?"

Scowl.

"The house is clean, our affairs are in order, I have low blood pressure," I announced. "And so, while I _could_ clean up another storm or find something equally inane to do, I don't _need_ to. Nor do I want to."

Blink.

_GAHHHH. God of articulacy… Why you abandon me? Example example example…_

"Have you eaten breakfast?"

Nod.

"What did you eat?"

"Milk and the pancakes you put in the fridge."

"Still hungry?"

"No."

"Good. I made the pancakes last night for a reason. And cold pancakes aren't much difference to warm ones, but I made sure you knew how to heat it up with the microwave too just in case." I explained. I wanted to giggle at the dawning realization on his face.

But first things first. I needed to seriously get the freaking point across so I could go back to sleep.

"So." I leaned forward with a solemn face, "Have I fulfilled my duties as your guardian? Did I shirk your needs for my rest?"

"…"

_Asdfghjkl. Wrong wording. What the hell brain?! Expand my vocab but decrease understanding?! Bah._

"You're looking constipated again," I pointed out as I inwardly bashed myself over the head and tried to commit suicide via drinking detergent, "I didn't mean it like that. I'm just saying that because I prepared and did everything beforehand—like making the pancakes last night instead of right now—I don't have anything I need to do! _Hence,_ I can sleep in today."

He nodded a little warily, but the _I-didn't-ask-you-to-take-on-the-burden-that-is-me_ look was still present. I really wanted to sigh and slap myself. I've never been all there in the mornings—especially when I'd just been woken up via Kyoya-induced heart attack.

Time to nip this thing in the bud. _Cue sapfest._

"Kyoya," I said firmly, "You are not, and will _never_ be, a burden. _Ever._ I decided to take care of you, and you've been really really easy to care for. I'm serious." I shook his shoulder a little, "You hear me? I'm tired from all the running around we did, but I did it _willingly and wholeheartedly._ Okay, some of it was annoying, but I'd do them all again if I had to."

My ward nodded again, eyes sliding to the side awkwardly. He'd lost the accusing/wary look and had the _you-are-such-a-_ _ **sap**_ _-and-an-embarrassment_ look on, but I accepted it because I deserved it this time. Maybe I'll warn him not to make me explain things too early in the morning. Or at least wait until I've had coffee.

"Good," I stated. "Now, have you prayed to Auntie and replaced the incense?"

"Yes."

"Is there anything else you want or need to do?"

He shook his head and made to get up. It looked like he didn't have any further objections, but I knew better. I pulled him back on the futon, this time making sure he didn't land on any body parts.

He blinked up at me owlishly.

"I know you've got low blood too—it's one of the things we have in common," I muttered as I shifted into a more comfortable position to snuggle him, "Getting up early every morning must be just as _hellish_ as it is to me." I reached over and pulled the covers over him too.

"Now." I flopped my head back on the pillow, "Sleep."

Stare.

"You don't think I'm just going to let you run around the house or outside with nothing to do? Not only would it be _irresponsible_ , I don't even dare to imagine what kind of terror you'd cause. And I can tell you're still sleepy. A kid like you should take more naps."

A blank look. And then a blink.

"I don't know what your parents used to say, but I know that _they_ didn't have low blood. It's a bit difficult to understand something you don't experience. By the way, that's how I stay _un_ cranky. I'd have a lot less of that patience and understanding that you keep praising me for if I didn't get enough rest. Why do you think I go to bed so early?"

A raised eyebrow. I nearly groaned as more sleeping time was wasted. I could feel my brain cells squeaking in protest.

"Look. I _know_ you get grumpy around noon. It's because you wake up at the crack of dawn and don't take any naps. You feel tired, but you don't want to show it, but it shows anyway, and you get mad because you know that I know even though you don't want me to know."

Blank stare.

"That was an easy one. You'll have to catch more complicated ones later on," I teased, "Just trust me and go to sleep. You've had a busy week and we've rushed around enough. Today, we _rest._ " I patted the pillow firmly.

A cautious look.

"No," I sighed, "Even if I wanted to, we still have to eat lunch. We'll sleep 'til 10 o' clock latest. Now _go to sleep._ "

Snort.

I rolled my eyes as he promptly rolled over and buried under the covers. Stubborn little kid. His eyes had still been half-shut when he came in. I still couldn't get over how _early_ he wakes up _every day_. Dawn. Can you imagine? _6:15/30-ish AM._ _Every freaking day._

It was _common sense_ that kids needed to take naps. I didn't even want to ask how young he'd been when his parents started him on that routine. _My_ parents had never done that, even though only my Dad had low-blood pressure.

Argh. Enough wasting time thinking over stupid things. Kyoya was _my_ charge now and I could tell him to sleep more. Hopefully it'd improve his temper, though I suspect it's more his personality than anything. But I could bet my inheritance that he wouldn't be nearly a bad tempered or grumpy in the afternoons anymore.

Oh, and don't think I didn't notice that he hadn't protested sharing the futon like he did when we were in Tokyo.

xXXx

Izumi was right, Kyoya thought as he stretched. He felt a lot more refreshed than he did when he woke up the first time. Then again, he admitted, Izumi was right about many things. Even if her explanations were completely incomprehensible. He checked the clock. 9:00AM.

One and a half hours of extra sleep. The difference was discernible. He actually felt content enough that if she were to wrap him in another one of her suffocating hugs, he would probably allow it. Without complaint even.

He turned to his right and was met with his guardian's back.

That was a little peeving, for some reason.

One and a half hours of additional sleep, no, she'd still been asleep at 7:30AM so it was almost _three_ hours of extra sleep, was probably enough. He shook her shoulder a little less gently than he had intended.

To his disappointment, she woke up willingly enough. She didn't even complain that there was still an hour before 10.

Bah.

His cousin hummed as she rubbed her eyes, "So how was it? Feel much better?" Kyoya noted that her voice was a little husky.

He didn't say anything. Somehow, he knew she'd understand anyway. It was a little baffling how well she could interpret his expressions after only a week. He'd given up trying to control his features around her—he _knew_ that his face was completely still except when he smirked, scowled or _frowned._

As expected, she ruffled his hair in reply and smiled. That was another thing that baffled him. She'd told him that he was easy to care for, but he _knew_ that it was the opposite. Compared to any other child, he was demanding, short-tempered, reckless, and didn't even communicate properly! Even if she understood him without words _now,_ it must still have been frustrating not receiving proper replies.

He'd made a conscious effort, but kept reverting. It didn't help that she'd never actually _reprimanded_ him for it. Sure, she poked fun and teased him over it, but it was all in jest. Even his mother had been exasperated at his brief answers.

He entertained the thought that she was telepathic, but tossed it in favor of a more logical explanation. Perhaps she didn't feel confident enough as his guardian to rebuke him? But she was so at ease around him!

He made up his mind to confront her on this issue. As his guardian it was her duty to ensure that he did not grow into an unruly ruffian and it would not do if she couldn't discipline him properly.

A finger poked his forehead, "What's with the furrowed brow? Something worrying you?"

He looked into her concerned face and tried to find the words. It seemed… improper and a little absurd to lecture her about lecturing him, but if that was what was required…

xXXx

I stared as Kyoya made another complicated expression. I had no idea what was going on—we'd had a good rest, I'd made sure to fix any problems I may have created while inserting my foot in my mouth, so I couldn't understand why he seemed to be so agonized. Unfortunately, I hadn't deciphered every single look he had, although I did catch something like confusion and some kind of inner debate.

When he started speaking with _words,_ I felt the beginnings of a problem. It was when he tried to _find_ words instead of saying things outright that I _knew_ there was a problem. Like, _oh noes the world is ENDING with the doomdoomdoom accompaniment_ kind of problem. And then he started speaking _hesitantly_ and with _tact,_ and that was when my brain started screaming that _the Apocalypse is HERE. WE ARE GOING TO DIE MUTHERFUCKERRRRRR!_

And then my brain caught up with my ears.

"Wait _what?"_ I stared back at his somewhat timid expression. Which was a _helluva weird_ experience. Like I'd been thrown into a parallel universe or something. When I reached the part about responsibility to bring him up into an honorable man it felt like I'd been catapulted into a whole different _multiverse._ And there was that recurring word, 'discipline' this and 'discipline' that.

He blinked at me with a somewhat pained expression. I didn't know whether I was supposed to burst into tears or run screaming for the hills or _laugh like a hyena_ or feel plain pathetic because a _ten year old kid who was supposed to be my ward was telling me that I should scold him better._ Like it was _strange_ not to scold him a lot.

My brain kind of overloaded at that.

What I _did_ do was sigh with a pained expression too. Kyoya's face contorted into a mix of fear, concern and expectation. Okay maybe not fear. Hesitation. Or something milder. Whatever. Just fear but not really fear.

I looked at the ceiling. Maybe I should paint it Sky Blue so that I'd have something more interesting to look at whenever I did the same thing again.

_Kami-sama, why you give me a kid who_ _**wants** _ _me to scold him? Why you make him so weird?! Daddy-Hibari and Mummy-Hibari,_ _**why your son so strange?!** _ _What you people teach him?! Auntie! I know you just died but did you know that your grandson is seriously screwed up in the head?!_

At that, I felt all that newly replenished strength drain from me. I flopped back onto the bed, facedown.

"…Izumi? Are you alright?"

Oh lord, he was still _talking with words._

I couldn't sigh enough with the pillow in my face so I turned back and faced him. I could feel my eyes threaten to roll back into my head and I really really wanted to know what kind of mind that little noggin held. But. I persevered.

_Kami-sama, if you could send over that pre-order of patience and strength right now, I will be very grateful._

I opened my mouth. And then shut it.

He blinked.

_I cannot risk foot-in-mouth disease here. Best make sure I'm fully awake first._

"I'm going to wash up," I finally managed to squeeze out as I hurriedly stood and fled before I could say anything else.

xXXx

Kyoya was nervous.

Actually, Kyoya was feeling rather regretful as well.

And maybe just a tad panicky, like when he realized Grandmother was dead when she didn't wake up. Except he didn't think he'd ever had as many butterflies in his stomach then as he did now. Grandmother had been _old_ after all. They all knew it would happen soon.

His chest felt tight.

Izumi hadn't said anything. She'd just _looked_ at him and left the room. Well, she'd said that she needed to wash up but it felt like she couldn't stand to stay in the room a minute longer.

And still, she hadn't punished or scolded him. But compared to what had occurred he'd much rather she'd yell and scream or even slap him in the face.

He'd _upset_ her.

He cursed his… whatever it was that made him blabber the crap he had said. Everything had been _fine._ Why couldn't he just leave well enough alone? Everything had been _fine_ until he'd _ruined it._

He hadn't realized she'd be so offended. Had he finally crossed the line?

Unconsciously, his hands gripped onto the futon cover tight enough that the knuckles turned a stark white.

He forced himself to sit in seiza as punishment. He wondered what kind of punishment she would give him, if she gave him any at all. A thought rose, unbidden.

_What if she decides to leave?_

The thought made his throat close up and his breathing shutter. Something like _nonononono_ wailed through his mind.

He forced himself to take a deep breath.

She wouldn't…Would she?

_She said she adopted me willingly and wholeheartedly._

_She didn't say she_ _**wouldn't** _ _leave._

_But she said we're family! And that she'd be around 'til I grow up!_

_That was_ _**before** _ _you screwed up and upset her. Nice going, genius, all that effort taking care of you and you still complain about her not_ _**scolding you enough** _ _! And you even gave her a whole lecture too! What, she not doing enough already?_

_I didn't_ _**mean** _ _it that way! She knows that!_

_Yeah, right. You saw that look on her face. She was so upset she couldn't even find anything to say!_

… _But… she can't leave me… She_ _ **can't.**_ _She said—she was the one who—she signed the papers—she's already—she_ _ **can't!**_

xXXx

_Okay, fresh as a daisy and powered up with coffee! No wrongly worded or poorly worded explanations! And a brain alert enough to pick up what the heck is going through his brain. Not scolding him properly, just what the heck does that mean? He hasn't even done anything wrong!_

I rolled my eyes as I re-entered the master bedroom.

The moment I set eyes on Kyoya, all the carefully prepared words scattered to the wind.

"Kyoya!" I shrieked as I ran over. He was completely _white like a ghost,_ and he was sitting as stiff as a board with one hand clutching his chest desperately. I examined his face in shock, his lips were pressed tightly together and devoid of blood. He even looked close to _tears._

"I-Izumi?" He whispered in a little choking voice.

"Ohmygod Kyoya what's wrong!" I demanded as I cupped his cheek. He was still clutching his chest so I placed my other hand over it. To my surprise, it latched onto me instead. His other hand soon followed, gripping onto my shirt like a lifeline. "What happe—"

"You can't leave!" He half-cried half-yelled. He took a heaving breath and continued, "You already signed the papers—you can't unadopt me! _I won't let you!"_

My brain stalled for a moment.

_I… what?_

I had been scared out of my wits. I was confused. I _hate_ being scared and then given some kind of jumbled explanation that I can't make head or tail of. And I _hate it_ when someone starts spouting stuff and assuming something I _never intended to do._ I get _angry_ when I'm confused like that.

I'd left for _fifteen fucking minutes_ and somehow Kyoya had gotten the _absolutely stupid fucking idea_ that I was going to _'unadopt' him. Or whatever the fuck the word was._ I thought I'd _abso-fucking-lutely reassured him that it'd_ _ **never happen.**_ _Like_ _ **hell**_ _I'd abandon family._ _ **I don't go back on my decisions.**_

And through it all, Kyoya was clinging onto me and screaming into my ear about abandoning responsibilities and lying and not letting me go.

I snapped.

"AAAAAHHHHH SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP **SHUTTHEFUCKUPRIGHTTHISMOTHER FUCKINGSECOND!"** I roared. And let me tell you, when I roar, _I roar._ Not shriek. Not scream. Not wail. Not just a measly yell. I bet that the neighbours down the street could hear me.

Kyoya shot up so fast, he nearly gave me whiplash. He released me and stared.

Then I noticed he was sitting in seiza and his legs were trembling. Okay, his whole body was trembling but that wasn't the fucking point. I could _feel_ his thighs shaking from strain.

My blood _boiled._

"STOP SITTING LIKE THAT AND CROSS YOUR LEGS!" I continued at a slightly lower volume, ignoring the fact that it sounded like I was telling a girl to sit properly. He jumped but obeyed immediately.

My temples and the veins in my neck were throbbing. I massaged the former in an attempt to ease the building ache. To no avail. I took a calming breath but couldn't quite manage it and instead felt as if I was inhaling fuel in preparation for an explosion. I hastily released it before I used it. But that just served to make me breathless _and_ pissed off.

 _Oh_ _ **fuck.**_ _**FUUUUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKK. GRAHHHH. JUST—AGHHHHH.**_

I wasn't in the right mind to talk. I'd probably scream and shake him until his teeth chattered and we'd get nowhere. I didn't dare touch him. I was so _angry_ that my hands were trembling.

The best solution was to walk out, cool down, come back again and _then_ start sorting this crap. But I couldn't trust the kid not to come up with another stupid idea and turn catatonic and end up scaring the _shit_ out of me _again_.

I took another breath. And another. And another. I went to the wall and started thumping my head. Hard. I counted to ten. To twenty. To a hundred and fucking ninety.

Then I compressed all the anger, the confusion, the uncertainty, the _why the fuck doesn't he trust me?!_ into a ball and swallowed it down. It was painful. It felt like the lid was about to pop and everything would come back up again. My chest felt too full.

I waited another few seconds before I turned back.

"Okay," I breathed, feeling the way the word trembled through my whole body and how my hands clenched and the nails dug into my palms. I'm pretty sure I'd pierced the skin.

I bit my lip and tried again, "Okay."

"Where," I said slowly, "did you. Get. The _idea_. That I. Was. _Leaving."_ I couldn't quite contain the fury in the last word and it was hissed out instead. I swallowed again and held up my hand when it looked like he was about to speak.

I was not _fucking done._

"Why. Would you. Think. That I. Would leave." I bit out, allowing all the _hurt/insult_ I felt pour into my voice. I swallowed again. My hand remained up. Kyoya was staring at me in petrified fascination. I glowered at him.

I stabbed my finger at my chest, " _ **I**_ am _**not**_ _._ " I whipped it around at him, " _ **leaving**_ _you."_ I sliced a hand through the air, _"_ _ **Ever.**_ _"_

I took another breath.

" _ **DO YOU FUCKING HEAR ME?!"**_

With that, I turned on my heel and strode out before I throttled the little fucker.

xXXx

Kyoya stared at the door. He hadn't quite understood what had just happened. One moment he'd been panicking, the next a demonic roar had pierced the fog. Father had once told him how a person could be frightened into _silence_ , and he suspected that was what he had just experienced. His mind had been utterly silent. There was only the voice and the swift execution of its orders.

And then, in the _exact_ moment that his brain regained some semblance of coherency, Izumi had turned around (when had she turned to the wall?) to him and…

Well, she didn't resemble the gentle and patient girl who had been taking care of him for the past week. At all. In fact, Kyoya was tempted to compare her to a female ghoul. Demon. Whatever. And then, in a voice sulfurous enough to scorch his bones, accompanied by pauses for breaths of fire and brimstone, she had… _threatened_ never to leave him.

Oh. Wait.

_Promised._

He blinked.

She had promised… never to leave him.

Never… to… leave…?

She had promised _never to leave him._

She had _promised never to leave him_.

 _She_ had _promised never_ to _leave him._

…

She had promised never to leave him!

Before his brain had caught up with his body, he was already haring out the door after her.

xXXx

I'd returned to the kitchen to cool down. I poured a glass of water and gulped it down before pouring another. My stomach was full but I continued to drink.

I rubbed my face. So much for being 'gentle and understanding'. Or patient. Or kind. I'd probably ruined any good impression the kid had of me.

I snorted. To think that the day had started out so nicely. We'd finished all the work and I'd been so relieved _and_ I'd managed to convince Kyoya to sleep in. Just… I don't even understand what—how— _aargghh!_

I thumped my head against the table.

Was it something I'd done? I wracked my brains for anything. _Anything_ that I'd done that could have given him an idea like _that._

He'd complained that I didn't scold him enough.

I'd looked at him and slumped on the futon.

I'd tried to speak but decided to go wash up first.

I told him that and left.

…That was it.

I hadn't said _anything_ about 'unadopting' him. I hadn't shown an angry expression. I hadn't even stomped off.

_Argh… What_ _**is** _ _going on in that boy's head?_

I slapped my face in exasperation.

Then I realized I wasn't alone.

_Oh great. Embarrass yourself even_ _**more** _ _in front of the kid. Some guardian._

He stood at the edge of the doorway silently, just looking at me. He didn't seem upset or anything. In fact, it was probably the most unreadable I'd seen him be.

I rested my cheek against my hand and crooked a finger at him.

He padded over willingly enough. No fear or timidity or wariness. That was good I supposed. Though I guess it'd be difficult to scare the little master of glares. When he reached me, I examined him carefully. No shaking. No lip biting. Slightly stiff posture. Well, stiffer than usual. Hands held rigidly at his sides.

Not afraid, no. A little nervous.

I raised a hand. He didn't flinch. Good.

Finally, I sighed and ruffled his hair. The look on his face was… so overwhelmingly relieved that I choked on a laugh. Taking advantage of this rare opportunity, I cupped his face and squished his cheeks, shaking his head gently, "Don't. _Ever._ Scare me like that again." I pinched them lightly, "Do you hear me?"

Huh. He actually let me do it.

I pressed a kiss to his forehead and pulled him into my lap. Never let it be said that I don't know how to use a situation. He clambered on obediently and even leaned in a little. Awwww. I hid a grin and stroked his head instead. He seemed content to press his face against my neck and wind his fingers in my unbound hair.

Ooooh. Did someone _like_ touching my hair? I wonder how long he'd been itching to touch it. If he was anything like me… Probably since the beginning. Maybe I should get the boy a pet. Now, to convince him that it wasn't 'girly'…

Ahem. Right. First things first.

"Kyoya," I sighed, "Can you tell me why you'd think that I was going to leave you? I don't really understand."

I think he went a little red. He even buried his face under my chin and mumbled. I was tempted to coo and/or turn into a pile of goo but this was more important. That didn't stop the stupid grin though.

Ahem.

I waited patiently. It was easy since it was a pretty comfortable position. It took him several minutes of embarrassed silence and faint mumbling before he started to speak. And let me tell you, the grin just kept getting wider and wider until I felt like my cheeks were going to ache from it. I nearly sputtered at some parts, but held it all in until he finished. I was biting my tongue _so bad._

Unfortunately, he looked up when I didn't reply in time.

"Sorry!" I squeaked as he leveled the oh so familiar glare at me. It was a little regretful that the cute Kyoya was gone, but I was happy enough with the time we had and maybe a little relieved that normal Kyoya was back. Kyoya being so obliging and clingy all the time would just be weird. I didn't let him escape from my lap though, and he was still remorseful enough to give up after a little struggling.

_D'awwwww._

Okay, so he was probably still in need of some assurance. He probably wasn't going to oblige me any longer after I clarified the situation, though. I silently mourned the loss as I explained my actions.

Yep. As I told my side of the story, his face flattened. He was even glaring a little at me.

I raised my eyebrow in reply. _You were the one who assumed things._

He sulked. And pouted.

I couldn't help it. I snickered. That quickly got rid of the last of his amiable behavior and he slid off my lap to stomp off. I burst into laughter but called out, "Make sure you grab your clothes first!"

He paused mid-stomp.

A flush of red crept up his neck and dyed his ears. He trembled wordlessly.

Then, he continued his rampage with twice the outrage. In the direction of his room.

I cackled so hard I nearly rolled off my chair.


	9. Chapter 9

Even the relaxing warmth of the shower could not completely erase the disgruntlement that Kyoya felt. Or the embarrassment. Or the indignation.

Okay, it didn't erase anything at all, but at least he felt a little more comfortable physically.

Izumi might have brushed off the whole issue with ease and even lightened the atmosphere with her quick wit, but that didn't mean that it was over. Brushed off did not mean resolved, after all. There were still many questions and uncertainties in their relationship that had not been brought up due to lack of time or the stress of getting things done.

For one, he knew next to nothing about her past. Even going back to her hometown (or city) had only brought on more questions. He knew she had good relations with most of the people around her, and that they had proven true because they had provided assistance for her own crisis when her parents died, but he didn't know the specifics. Well, he didn't need the _specifics,_ but things like how they met, what kind of life she'd had before meeting him, what kind of people her parents—his intended guardians, according to her—were.

He found himself curious as to what kind of person she was. Her hobbies, her interests, her family background…

And most importantly, _why_ she had decided to abandon all that for _him._

Even if she hadn't yet exhibited signs of missing Tokyo, or missing her friends, or even just getting bored of life in a quiet town like Namimori, he just _knew_ that it would happen. He'd found himself aching as they waited for the train to Tokyo, an ache he hadn't ever experienced before. It was different from the one for his parents or Grandmother.

Homesickness, Izumi had remarked as he struggled to explain it to her. The single word had been surprisingly apt.

Truth be told, he hadn't been sure what he'd been missing. His parents were gone, Grandmother was gone, and the only thing that was left in Namimori had been the house. But still, he had ached to turn back, to step off the train, to run down the streets back home. Only the fact that his guardian had accompanied him had spurred him on.

Watching Namimori slowly disappear in the horizon as the scenery changed had been disquieting. He'd been tired as hell but still couldn't help craning his neck to watch the last familiar house shrink into the distance. Izumi hadn't said a word, but she'd curled her fingers around his when he finally sat down.

It'd helped. Just a little.

In Tokyo, surrounded by her friends and seeing so many crowds and people and shops and new things, he'd been distracted from the ache. They'd kept busy, running around to finish all the errands and arrange all her affairs properly—she'd brought him _everywhere_ she went. Even spending time with her friends had been filled to the brim with activities. He suspected that it was on purpose.

It'd helped too. Just a _little._

But still, he had counted the hours until they returned home.

Well, _his_ home. Izumi's home was still Tokyo after all.

Or was it?

He wanted to ask her that too.

Because when he'd pictured going _home,_ she'd been in it too.

xXXx

Lazy mornings were always my favorite. I loved relaxing in the cool morning air with a cup of coffee and doing nothing but daydreaming. The morning hadn't exactly been _lazy_ after that tiff, but I was determined not to let it spoil my day of rest. I'd managed to avoid a blow up of epic proportions, even if I had needed to blow up a little myself, and while it may be a sign that we needed to have a 'talk', I wasn't going to let it set the tone for it.

I blew on my cup of tea—I'd already had coffee and anymore would just make me jittery—as I sat cross-legged in the garden under the Sakura tree. I'd always loved nature, but staying in a city made things a little difficult. My lack of green fingers didn't help either—I'd once killed a _cactus_ by forgetting to water it. And also forgot to change the soil for another pot of pretty blue buds that ended up wilting from the lack of nutrients.

Hopefully that wouldn't carry over to my situation with Kyoya. I'm pretty sure he'd complain if I didn't feed or water him, but one could never be sure. The kid hadn't been eating regularly before I came after all.

…Ugh. And here I was hoping to avoid depressing or worrying thoughts.

I held in the sigh and sipped my tea, trying to attain that 'inner peace' that all those Zen masters kept yapping about.

The truth was that I had no idea what I was doing. I knew what to do in terms of administrative duties, things like tackling the legal paperwork and the accounting. I knew to feed him three times a day and clean the house. I knew to look for a job. I knew not to raise a hand to a child and to explain so that there wouldn't be misunderstandings. I knew to rein in my temper, to choose my words carefully, and to practice what I preached.

But all those meant absolutely _nothing._

What kind of person did Kyoya's parents want him to be? What had they taught him, shown him, told him? What were their values? Was I going against any of them? Was I teaching him wrong? Now that I was more awake, I wasn't sure if it had been my right to teach him to sleep in and nap. Yes, children needed more sleep, yes, Kyoya had low blood pressure just like me. But perhaps his parents had reasons for instilling in him the need to wake up at the crack of dawn?

Okay, that sounded ridiculous, even to me, but _still…_

What if I screwed up all their teachings and end up screwing _him_ up? What if I confused him with my own values and caused him to go against his family's wishes? Or worse still, cause him to be half-baked in everything and end up following none of them.

Not that I thought Kyoya would ever be _half-baked._

But _still…_

This time I did sigh. Screw inner peace.

I was in over my head, I was sticking my nose in something I had no idea about, and the worst part was that if I failed it may not be _me_ who has to pay the price.

Maybe I should have left it alone?

_No._

The answer came without hesitation. There was no way I was going to give Kyoya up. Even before that, when it'd just been me helping out a relative who couldn't help himself, I'd _known_ what I was getting into. Knew the costs, the effort I'd have to put in. Knew the risk that I was taking.

And now?

I didn't think I _could_ give Kyoya up. He'd become such a huge part of me, had such a hold over my heart, that it was unthinkable to be separated from him.

Sometimes I wonder what I'd been doing all this time before I met him. Everything seemed to pale in comparison to the few days I've spent with him. Through him, I'd re-experienced memories with my family. I'd remembered things from my childhood I'd long forgotten. Most importantly, I'd received a _purpose._

I hadn't even realized I'd been drifting aimlessly ever since they'd died. Even with my friends surrounding me, there'd still been a hole. A gap.

Kyoya had filled it completely.

Huh. I wonder if that's my mothering instincts awakening. Maybe children wouldn't be such a bad idea after Kyoya was old enough…

When I realized where my thoughts were leading me, I choked. And coughed and hacked and wheezed and sputtered. Almost all at the same time. I pounded my chest and caught my breath, hysterical giggles bubbling from my throat as I wrapped my mind around the horrible, horrible thought of a hoard of mini-Kyoyas…

_Oh_ _**lord…** _

I stared at the cup in my hand suspiciously...

"What are you doing?"

I raised my head.

Standing on the patio with his hands crossed and a wry look on his face was my ward. Before I could stop myself, I sputtered again and giggled. At that, the look changed to one of exasperation and wariness. He looked on the verge of rolling his eyes.

"Tea!" I squeaked helplessly, waving the cup in the air as I collapsed on my side. Thankfully, I had drained most of it, so there was no spillage. And Kyoya immediately rescued the cup from my wavering grasp at my outburst.

He set it safely aside and returned, the exasperated look still on his face. Sometimes I wondered if he was the older one with how matured he acted. I rolled onto my back and looked up at him from my position on the grass, still giggling a little. He _did_ roll his eyes then as he offered his hand.

I patted the ground next to me instead.

It was hilarious, watching disgust and exasperation clash on his face. He even raised his eyes to the sky and muttered 'crazy woman'. I beamed up at him, marveling at the wave of contentment that washed over me. It was as if all the missing pieces in my life had come together again.

The grin brightened when he decided to take a sit beside me, though he gingerly avoided leaning against the tree and sat as if a pole had been glued to the back of his clothes. Not the words I would have used, but I was trying to keep things child-friendly. Even if my loss of temper this morning had completely destroyed that.

Ignoring the way my hair fell _everywhere,_ I shifted my head into his lap. As expected, he puffed up in outrage and protested. However, in spite of his words, he made no move to shove me off.

Maybe this morning's impression had lasted longer than I expected.

 _Or,_ I thought as I hid a smile, _he just wants to play with my hair._

Indeed, his un-shoving hands had curled themselves in the loose loops and were attempting to twirl them around the fingers as stealthily as possible. If he hadn't accidentally tugged a few strands that I'd laid on, I wouldn't have noticed.

If there was one feature that I was proud of, it was the thick raven hair that I had inherited from my mother. It seldom tangled, and fell in soft waves over my shoulder. It was a hassle to dry, but I would never cut it. It used to be shoulder-length before she died, but after that, I'd let it grow past my waist. Not that she ever had waist-long hair, but it still reminded me of her and how she'd brush it for me every night.

Sometimes I suspected I grew it out in the silly hope that she'd take longer to brush it if she ever came back.

That thought didn't ache as much as it did before.

Kyoya's eyes had gone soft and distant as he wound my hair in circles. Gently and carefully and slowly. I watched him even as I remembered the feel of my mother's hands in my hair. Idly, I wondered whose hair he was remembering. Or if it was hair he was remembering at all.

It was quiet and peaceful, in the garden. The only things I could hear were birds and crickets and the soft splashing of water in the koi pond. It was idyllic enough that I would have dozed off if I hadn't had coffee _and_ tea earlier.

It was probably time to have that talk we so desperately needed.

Somehow, it didn't feel as daunting as it did before.

xXXx

Kyoya was lost in memories of his childhood. The one when his Grandmother _and_ his parents were still alive. He'd been five or six years old, and his mother had brought him to the park. Not to play—a Hibari did not _play_ —but to make the acquaintance of the people he would be protecting when he took over the Hibari name. It'd been the single, most important rule in the family—that the Hibari family protected Namimori.

He'd sneered at the crowd of children running and screaming in the park. Scoffed at the noisy, crying babies and the gossiping whispers of their mothers. Preened at the way both became hushed when they neared. And then, nearly stumbled as a tearful girl ran past him in order to escape a gleeful boy with a beetle in his hand.

It had been reflex to stick a foot out and trip him. Really.

Of course, this prompted an outraged shriek from his mother, who had been watching idly as he chased the girl. Hibari or not, the righteous fury of a mother was a fearful thing to face. It was a good thing _his_ _own_ was present as well.

It was the first time he'd seen his mother act like the other mothers. The first time he'd seen her draw herself up in indignation on _his_ behalf. She usually chose to stand on the sidelines, telling him that a Hibari ought to fight his own fights.

He'd be lying if he said he never resented her for it.

It had been gladdening to see her draw herself up coolly and pin her opponent with an icy glare.

The words exchanged echoed distantly in his memory, but the one thing he could see clearly in his mind's eye was the swish of his mother's braid as she stood in front of him. She always kept it neatly—and tightly—bound, whether it was in a complicated hairdo, or a simple braid. He'd never seen it loose before.

And at that moment, he had wished he could.

Strange, that of all the things he could have remembered about the first time his mother stood up for him it would be _that._

But as he coiled the ends of similarly dark raven hair in his fingers, he found himself childishly satisfied. As if he'd received a piece of a puzzle he'd always missed.

It prompted another memory, though this time instead of Father, it was Grandmother who was talking.

She had said that Mother used to carry him around when he was a baby, in one of those times when they'd sat down for tea and she had looked at his face and seen his parents instead. That particular occasion had been unusual in that she'd mentioned Mother instead of Father.

She would hold him in her arms. All the time, everywhere she went, even to the point that Father had to wrestle him away from her to get his chance. She let her hair loose all the time then, _just because_ he liked to play with it so much.

He'd been disbelieving. While he knew they loved him, it had always been separate from the duty of being a Hibari. He'd been their heir, the successor to the name. The thought that they would indulge in such sentimentality had been alien. He hadn't scoffed, because it was rude to an elder, but it had been a near thing. He'd put it out of his mind the moment the conversation ended.

But the feel of dark silky strands in his hands was familiar.

He wondered if he could get Izumi to buy a sprig of sweet pea when they visited the family grave.

It'd been Mother's favorite flower.

xXXx

It took me a while to start up the conversation. I'd hesitated to break the silence and tranquility, but the feeling that this was more important spurred me on.

Patting Kyoya's cheek, I sat up. That didn't have any effect, but he seemed to shake himself out of the stupor when my hair tugged against his fingers. The look he shot me then was a mix of guilt and embarrassment as he struggled to untangle the strands.

I snorted, but helped him pull them apart.

Perhaps it was the wrong thing to do, because he was scowling when he finally got free. I berated myself for starting on the wrong foot and wasting the peaceful atmosphere we'd just established. So I did what my gut told me to do and pulled him into my lap as I propped myself against the tree. There was a struggle and several glares of varying levels of frustration, but in the end he crossed his arms sullenly as I squished him against my chest.

I sighed, but my gut told me it was the best I could expect from insulting his pride while he was in a reminiscing mood.

Apologetically, I draped my hair over my shoulder and held a bunch in front of him. Immediately, he growled and turned away. I suspected the memory he'd been evoking had been more precious than I realized.

"Sorry," I said softly as I patted his arm, "I didn't mean to laugh at you. Honest."

His scowl was still present, but the intensity of his glare lessened. I held my hair out to him again and continued, "I wasn't laughing at you playing with my hair. I was laughing at your guilty face."

Maybe my gut needed retraining, I thought, as I watched his expression go from Insulted to Highly Offended. Or maybe my tongue. For rephrasing practice. I grimaced but hurried to explain, hoping that it wouldn't take a turn for the worse, "I just felt that you shouldn't be so embarrassed. I don't mind if you touch it. Really."

Praying that I wasn't going to ruin things further, I offered my hair a third time.

This time he uncrossed his arms and snorted. I sighed inwardly in relief but continued holding out my hair. I kept my expression sincere and earnest as he scrutinized it suspiciously.

With another grunt, he relaxed against me, but continued to ignore my hair, although I could see him eyeing it from the corner of his eye.

I shrugged, winding it around my own fingers. I guessed expecting him to start playing with my hair again would have been pushing it. At least it provided me with an opening to begin the 'talk'.

Smiling as I held his hand in mine and twined the strands around both of them, I asked, "So… what were you thinking about just now?"

My smile widened when he didn't pull away.


	10. Chapter 10

It took a lot of effort and patience to get Kyoya to open up enough to speak, and even then he didn't really want to elaborate on a lot of things. He gave me a brief summary about his memory of his mother as well as what his grandmother had told him with the most deadpanned look I had ever seen. Even his voice was monotonous enough that you'd think he was reading an essay instead of retelling a precious memory. I nearly ruined things again by bursting out laughing.

Thank god I'd had so much practice reining in my amusement and was being especially vigilant because of the debacle I'd nearly caused.

Still, it had been a struggle to hold it all in and act solemnly. I nearly busted a rib swallowing all my chuckles.

In any case, I shared my memories of _my_ mother as well, and somehow managed to get back into a more serious mood. Kyoya had listened attentively, as he usually did whenever I told him things, and by the end of it, I'd gotten him to run his hands through my hair on his own accord. It was a little bittersweet. I would forever miss my mother, but I wouldn't trade Kyoya for anything in the world.

When Kyoya asked me why I had adopted him and whether it was out of pity, I'd been somewhat surprised. On hindsight, I shouldn't have been. After all, I guessed it did kind of look like I wasn't getting anything in return.

I think the look on his face was a little conflicted when I told him how I felt—how I had been wandering aimlessly through life until I met him, how he gave me purpose. It was cheesy and cliché, but it was true. And even though he called me embarrassing and a hopeless dreamer, he didn't pull away. In fact, I'm pretty sure he scooted a little closer.

However, I still tied his hands up with my hair and held them hostage—he didn't want to pull it so he couldn't tug himself free—in revenge. I think it was the first time I saw him at a complete loss. He couldn't use his usual 'bite people to death' method to get out of the bind (pun intended).

Poor thing.

The result was a scowling and glaring boy who was, to his frustration, still bound. I told him it was his fate to end up meeting a person as cruel and creative as I was and to give up because he was stuck with me.

There was some incoherent mumbling before he demanded a refund. I was _so proud_ that I draped the rest of my hair over him and declared that he was never getting away from me. _Nevar._

That sparked a little struggle that ended with me discovering that Kyoya was, to his horror and my eternal glee, _ticklish._ I admit that I cackled like a madwoman once I understood what the slight shiver from brushing his side meant.

Unfortunately I was ticklish too, and once he found out, he quickly retaliated. And I lost more than a few times because for all that he was only ten, he was pretty darn strong.

Damn those tonfa lessons.

We ended up calling a truce as we collapsed back under the tree. By then, he'd forgone all decorum and simply leaned against the trunk to catch his breath. I had to admit, the little bugger could run fast _and_ far. We must have chased each other around the garden more than a dozen times before he was even slightly out of breath.

It was a little amusing how curious my ward was about me. He asked me about my childhood, my family, my friends and even my school. He wanted to know everything and anything I could dredge up from memory and why I felt this way or acted that way. I didn't have many secrets to divulge, but he seemed intent on prying open the 'mystery' that was my personality.

I think I had more fun leading him in circles and letting him guess things than I should, but it was so funny listening to his frustrated thoughts about me—I had no idea he found me such an enigma! In contrast, _he_ was rather incensed at the 'ease' with which I understood him—he was pretty miffed that I could follow his expressions 'so easily'.

I decided not to tell him it was mostly gut feel that I went by. No telling what he'd do if he discovered I had been _guessing_ his responses and actually getting them right.

And most adorable of all, he was _still_ unhappy at my lack of 'disciplinary measures' for his apparent 'misconduct'. I had to avoid another gut-busting bout of giggles as he ranted at me about bringing him up properly and instilling proper values. It was comical enough that even he had to admit to seeing the humor in it. Not that it stopped him, the stuffy little old man.

However, I decided to take it a little more seriously, seeing how insistent he was on it. I sort of suspected some influence from his parents played a part. After some thinking, I could understand why he would worry over something like that—the way he described his upbringing, it was as if they were grooming him for some kind of position. Rather ambiguous position—protector of Namimori—and also pretty strange, but I guess it meant a lot to him.

So, I tried to find the words to convey my… expectations of his conduct. It turned out into something of a debate.

"What do you mean I don't always have to observe rules of etiquette? They are important!" He growled in an offended tone.

"How the heck does etiquette factor into protecting Namimori? Are you going to chit-chat them to death or something?" I joked.

He declared firmly, "Mother said that a warrior should always observe rules of conduct!"

"And what are the rules of conduct?" I inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"…"

It was actually then that I realized the poor boy was having a little identity crisis as to how to go about following his parents' words. The rigid adherence to rules, the formality of his words, even the goal to become 'the Protector of Namimori' was all part of his struggle to keep to the path he felt his parents had set for him. Or what little they had managed to impart about what they had intended before they died.

I felt a little ashamed, remembering what a terror I had been to mine.

However, there were still things he needed to learn. His little tale of his mother was proof that they loved him dearly. That they had never taken steps to curb his 'demanding, reckless, short-tempered and non-communicative' personality was also evidence that they did not want to change him to suit their expectations.

I pondered ways to phrase it to him. After all, as his guardian, it was now my responsibility to guide him, and if there was one thing I could infer from his stories, it was that his parents would have wanted him to be, above all, _happy._

I searched for a way to express it so that he could relate to it, so that he could understand the point, so that he could _realize_ it. I searched for a way that _I_ could relate to, could explain with ease, and then I realized.

I decided to start with a story.

xXXx

Kyoya eyed the strange look on Izumi's face curiously. She'd broken off in the middle of their discussion and started eyeing him with something like discovery. And then she had descended deep into her thoughts, as if she was trying to piece together a puzzle that she had just received. He decided to keep silent and allow her to concentrate. She'd usually share her thoughts once she had them organized properly.

When she beckoned him closer and settled more comfortably under the tree, he wondered what kind of revelation she would share with him. He liked listening to her explain things, liked how she tried to make him understand them. She knew so many things and even though she didn't always explain clearly, she tried her best and would keep trying until she did.

It reminded him of that first meeting they had. When she'd insisted on being given a chance to explain everything.

If he were ever asked, and was willing to answer, he'd admit that his favorite part of her was her voice.

"Kyoya?"

The very thing he was musing about broke through his reverie. He looked up into curious brown eyes and found that he liked those too. Not as much as Hibari-gray, but more than any other color. They were warm and gentle, something he had never expected to be faced with after Grandmother's death.

"Hn," he replied, still looking up into those eyes. He felt something press into his hand and looked down to see Izumi's entwined with his. She had elegant hands. There were a few calluses on the palm, but the fingers were long and slim. And strong, he added, remembering the way she had gripped his wrists, his collar, and his arm to prevent an outburst.

Her other hand was busy weaving her hair around his fingers. The loops formed by the silken strands were smooth. He wondered if this was going to become a habit of hers, but decided that he didn't mind even if it did.

But he paid that only half a mind, because Izumi had started speaking again.

"When I was younger, I never listened to my parents. What they asked, I'd do the opposite. That was how much of a brat I was. Told me to go right, I'd go left. Told me to sit straight, I'd slouch. Told me to study, I'd toss my homework. I was a right pain in the butt for them to deal with.

At first it was just pure mischief, but later on, when I grew a little older, it became rebellion. I resented their expectations and their instructions. I couldn't understand why they kept putting so much pressure on me to succeed. 'Do well in school', 'follow the family values'… It was always 'do this' and 'do that' and 'listen to me'… And they kept repeating that it was 'for my own good'. I didn't understand. Why did I have to listen to all that? Why did I have to do what they told me to?

I didn't have too many problems with the family values. Mostly they were stuff that any decent person should do. Things like kindness and generosity and sincerity and perseverance. Well, I was pretty lazy, so perseverance not so much, but I understood why I should follow them.

Studies not so much.

Sometimes I'd try to listen to what they told me. I'd do well in one test and then they'd praise me and celebrate. But I couldn't see how doing well in school was 'for my own good'. I didn't see any change, any result to it. Just an endless number of tests.

In the end, I gave up on putting any effort at all. It was useless. I just couldn't understand what was so important about it.

The results were as expected. I failed. And everything came crashing down. I was fourteen when it happened and I realized that I couldn't continue schooling.

They didn't know where to put me—I flunked out of Junior High and my conduct wasn't exactly the best. My attendance sucked too, because I started skipping class again. I thought it was the end of the line for me. I couldn't continue my studies.

I had to go out and work.

And it scared the _heck_ out of me.

But Mom and Dad, they didn't give up. They kept looking around, kept trying to find alternatives, until they found this school that offered Diploma courses—which is actually a professional course and _seriously_ expensive. I wasn't really sure, but I was desperate, so I took it. Moved out, rented an apartment and everything.

And even then, I was only going through the motions. I was afraid to step out into the working world.

I didn't really want to study, but I didn't want to work even more. The thought of going out into the world alone and looking for a job scared me. I had no idea how to write a resume. I had no idea what to do in an interview. And worst of all, I didn't even know what kind of job I _could_ do. If I could get one at all. Mom and Dad were just throwing their money away to accommodate me.

It was during those times that I found myself wondering what would happen to me if they died. If I could support myself if they ever disappeared. The answer was obvious.

_Hell no._

And then, to my horror, they died for real.

I woke up from my pretty little fantasy world real quick after that. And the world I woke up to? It was a _nightmare._

I didn't know what to do. I had these plans in the air and half-baked ideas. I wanted to run away, but I didn't know where to run to. Or if I could even survive. I didn't have enough knowledge, or connections, or… _anything._

But Mom and Dad had left me enough money—and boy did I realize real quick that money was _everything_ in this world—that I had more options than I thought. I'd been thinking about the idea of emancipation, half wanting to be able to decide what to do with my life, half afraid of having to make the choice on my own. It was the money left behind and the letter in their wills that made me go for it.

They told me…

They told me not to worry too much. Told me that there was enough money to cover my studies and give me a head start before I found a job and everything. Told me to take care of myself, to make sure I had enough to eat, to remember to do the housework…

Told me, most important of all, to keep going, to never give up, and to remember that… they would always love me.

They'd always repeated that sentence. Said it over and over again. Over the phone, before they left home, before _I_ left home to study for my Diploma… I never really realize what they were saying until I read it in that letter.

I kept thinking about how I'd failed them, how I'd disappointed them, how… half-assed I was. It was all the same realizations I'd had that day at the table, but this time I really felt it.

I felt it right here. In my heart.

And I regretted it.

And I wished I could do it over… but it was too late. You only get one life. And you can't turn back. That's when I finally, _really_ pulled my head out of my ass and started taking things seriously. After all, now that Mom and Dad were gone, who was going to take care of me if I didn't?

So I decided to change. I didn't tell anyone anything, or swear over their graves or made promises, but I told myself that I would change. And that I'd stick to it.

It was harder than I thought. I kept trying to go back to being lazy and distracted. I kept wanting to go back to my fantasy world. To my manga. And games. And even story books. Like they were any different just because they had more words. I had to remind myself that they were _all_ distractions. There were _no_ exceptions.

I knew myself.

I knew that I was seriously undisciplined and if I allowed an inch, I'd take a whole _mile._ So I _threw_ all my manga away. I locked up all my story books and threw my manga and cleared my internet history _and_ banned the sites. I _destroyed_ all the distractions or at least removed them from reach because I _knew_ if I tried to rely on willpower it'd all go down the drain.

And it was only when I finally had nothing 'fun' to do that I began studying seriously—because there was no other alternative. That's how bad I was. Still am, if I allow it. But it paid off in the end and I ended up one of the top students."

For a while, Izumi was silent as she hugged him to her chest. When he looked up, he realized that she was furiously blinking tears away.

She took a wavering breath, "But that's not what I wanted to talk about. Ah crap I went off topic… I wanted to say that no matter what your parents taught you, what they told you, all the things they said you had to uphold… You have to remember the most important thing. And that's that they loved you."

That didn't really make sense, and he opened his mouth to protest. But she held up her hand and he subsided, "You remember all the things they said: Protect Namimori, be an honorable man, uphold the Hibari name… stuff like that.

Just like my parents' expectations of me, those were their expectations of you, but you have to understand _why_ they had them. It's 'for your own good' and you have to find out what 'your own good' means. What does 'protect Namimori' mean? Why do you have to protect it?"

She continued before he could reply, "You told me that it's been the way it's been done for generations. The Hibari family protects Namimori. But what does that really _mean?_ I'm thinking it's not just that the Hibari family protects 'Namimori', but that the Hibari family protects 'what is theirs'."

Kyoya jerked and stared at her with wide eyes.

"I don't know what kind of history the Hibari family has with Namimori, but I know it can't be that simple. What is it about Namimori that is so important to the Hibari? You told me your parents used to take you around town and tell you all the history, all the stories of every single place in Namimori. From the shopping district to the Shinto Shrines to the Memorials to the Temple Street… and they would tell you that this was what you would be protecting."

"The way I see it, it's like their legacy to you."

His mouth opened. And closed again. He blinked.

"Because if _you_ have to protect it, then _they_ must have been protecting it too. It makes sense, doesn't it?"

…It did.

"So… _why were they protecting it?_ For _you,_ isn't that right? Isn't that what a legacy is for? _"_

…For the future generations…

"It's for the children. Descendants. So all that stuff, all the teachings, all the expectations… they all actually come back to one thing. Your parents wanted to _leave_ Namimori to _you_ —in what manner I have no idea—but it was something precious that they wanted to pass down to you. All that training, that discipline, they were to prepare you to accept your legacy and be able to protect it when they were gone. But those aren't the important points. How you protect Namimori isn't the point."

"The important point is that Namimori is for _you._ And you have to protect it."

"…"

She gave him a watery smile, "And the _most_ important point is not that you protect _Namimori_ , but that you protect _the legacy your parents have left you_."

She added, "And I think that as long as you're happy and have received their legacy, they'd have been proud of you."

And just like that, he felt the earth shift and all the fog blow away.

xXXx

I was a little worried at the long silence after I ended. I hadn't actually intended to share my whole life's story with him, but it had spilled out as I was trying to figure out which parts to tell him. Maybe it was the way he listened so intently, but I had told him everything without hesitation.

"…You think so?"

I didn't recognize that timid voice for a moment.

Kyoya looked remarkably young as he tilted his head up at me with a hint of hope and desperation in his eyes. It filled me with fondness and I told myself that I would protect him.

I pressed a kiss to his forehead and held him closer.

"Yes. I do."


	11. Chapter 11

Waking up early on Monday was a lot different from waking up on Sunday. For one, I got up at 6:00AM _before_ Kyoya. For another, I was a mixture of nervousness and excitement in a _first-day-of-school_ way. And I wasn't the one going to school. Well, not in the way that usually preceded that sort of feeling.

Waking up every day around 6:15-ish in the morning for a week had trained my body. The rest I got yesterday helped too, and I felt refreshed enough that I didn't even complain. It was strange in a good way, not getting Monday blues.

In any case, I was preparing breakfast when Kyoya ambled out of his room to the bathroom. He paused for a while, blinking and rubbing his eyes in a most _adorable_ way, before grunting a greeting. I didn't get to remind him before the door slammed close, so I had the funniest view of my disgruntled ward stomping out with his face wet to get his clothes. I was beginning to think this was a habit.

Maybe I should get his clothes ready for him beforehand?

…

Nah. He has to kick the habit _some_ time.

 _And_ it was too amusing.

Hey, a girl has to have her hobbies.

When he finally came out, it was in his white and blue practice _gi._ It wasn't surprising—he did his exercises and tonfa practice every day. Since school only started at 8:30AM, he had two hours to do so. Not that I thought otherwise, but it would have been nice to be able to sleep in…

Looks like I'd be waking up at dawn every weekday too, then.

"Good morning!" I beamed as cheerily as possible, letting him know that I'd seen his little scene. There was some embarrassed scowling but he was still half-asleep so all I got was another grunt in reply. Argh, it was just so cute. Almost made waking up at such an unholy hour worth it.

The minute I set his plate in front of him, he started wolfing everything down. The bacon, the toast, the eggs and even the extra leftover rice and chicken from yesterday. It was enough to make _two_ breakfasts, but all of them disappeared into his mouth.

I shook my head. I still couldn't get used to seeing it. Everyone knew the saying about growing boys, but I guessed I would be experiencing it first-hand from now on. Not that I disliked cooking, but the amount of time I spent in the kitchen had tripled and sometimes quadrupled compared to when I was just cooking for one.

Briefly, I wondered if he would grow into a giant. With the amount he was eating, he should be at least a head taller than I was. Or well, I hoped so. All that food had to go _somewhere._

I, myself, was 166cm which was quite a bit above average. If Kyoya were to grow a head taller…

Wow. He'd be _scary._ Especially with his glares. _I want to see that._

Although… at the moment he was only about 130cm.

Which was kind of below average for boys his age…

I made a note to buy more milk.

xXXx

Kyoya was unusually tensed today. I thought it was just pent-up energy that would be used up during his exercise, but it looked like this was more than that. I entertained the thought that he was nervous about going to school, but… that just couldn't be possible. Kyoya could be nervous about a few things (surprisingly) but school wasn't one of them.

I hummed as I flipped the salmon. I was making salmon-filled onigiri for his bento lunch. He'd liked it previously, so I decided to stick with something I knew well before I started experimenting with things. I'd added fresh cherry tomatoes and boiled carrots, broccoli and cauliflowers for vegetables to balance things out. I briefly wondered if I should attempt to arrange it into one of those cutesy decorated bentos.

I had to choke back a giggle at the thought of Kyoya's face when he opened his lunchbox. It was so very tempting…

Oh nevermind, I'll spare him the humiliation on his first day.

The sound of the bathroom door opening. He must be done with his shower. Better give him something to eat before we leave. All that breakfast would have gone to his exercise and who knows what might happen if he goes to school hungry?

The thought didn't bear thinking of. I hurriedly made an onigiri.

"Kyoya, come over here and eat this. I know you just ate breakfast but I'm sure you've used it all up for practice…"

My voice trailed off as I stared at the sight before me. The onigiri held limply in my hands.

I'd forgotten the Elementary School uniforms.

The _sailor_ uniforms.

I'd forgotten that Kyoya would be _wearing_ the Elementary School _sailor_ uniform.

I… forgot to buy a camera.

_Arghhhh._

"…Izumi?"

I blinked at the curious frown on my adorable ward's face. Coughing hastily, I handed him the rice ball before saving the salmon from burning. Turning off the stove, I allowed the fish to cool a little before flaking it and wrapping it in rice. As I debated how many onigiri to make, Kyoya had polished off his snack and was staring at me with what could only be his version puppy-dog eyes.

Which was more of a kitty-cat glare if you asked me. And far more demanding that it had any right to be. I shot him a flat stare as I packed another rice ball into his bento.

Not very convincing. Even with the cute sailor uniform.

"Izumi…" He whined. And yes, it was _whining._ Not 'demanding with an authoritative voice'. It was, maybe, just a little more stubborn-sounding than most.

I rolled my eyes, but passed him another rice ball. With how hard he practiced his tonfa martial art thing, it wasn't surprising that he got hungry so easily. So even if he was a little turd about it, I could hardly starve him. Oh woe is me.

He probably needed another one after this one. I packed five in his bento and added a mint to freshen his breath after eating. There was just enough left to make one last onigiri. Before he gave me the kitty glare again, I held it out.

Truthfully, I wanted to eat it in front of him, but I reminded myself not to act so childishly and that he was a growing boy.

_Patience, patience._

I was learning (and exercising) it a lot these days.

Perhaps sensing my thoughts, he took the last ball from me a lot more hesitantly and even muttered his thanks. And this time, I could actually see him _chew._ Praise Kami, the kid still knows his manners even when rampaging for food.

Well, after two whole onigiris. About the amount I ate for lunch or dinner.

I gave up and smiled wryly at him.

Resigning myself to the thankless task, I made a note to set aside my own portions and label them clearly or risk having them devoured. The kid could be like a bloodhound with the way he sniffed out food.

"So," I began as I tied the bento firmly and filled up a bottle with milk, "What's eating you?"

He gave me a strange look, which made me sigh. Kyoya was proving to be a rather sheltered person in terms of colloquialisms. I'd had to explain quite a few things to him already and even then, he just couldn't understand why anyone would want to speak in such a way. I'd tried explaining metaphors to him, but if it wasn't some old Japanese adage that sounded like some sage wisdom, he wouldn't acknowledge it.

"I meant," I rolled my eyes, "What is troubling you?"

With a look of _why-didn't-you-say-that-earlier,_ he gave me a neutral grunt in reply. I squinted my eyes at him, but he was blank. I huffed and began the guessing game again.

"It has to be something to do with school," I started, watching him carefully from the corner of my eye. When he didn't refute it, I continued. "You're not nervous about going to school." He gave me an _of-course_ stare. I shrugged, I didn't expect that to be the problem either, the idea just didn't fit him.

So, what was the difference between going to school now and before?

Well, for one, Auntie was dead. I would be taking her place. But that wasn't something to be nervous about, just maybe a little sad and nostalgic. Another was that I would be accompanying him to school. Which shouldn't be the problem since I told him I wasn't going to let him walk alone every day. He hadn't spoken against it or so much as twitched, so he should have been cool with it.

Well, the only other thing was the meeting with his teachers. So. Was that something to be nervous about? I would have thought I would have more reason to be nervous than he did…

I frowned and pondered, ignoring the curious look on my ward's face. Meeting with the teachers was just a way of introducing myself so that they would know who to contact should there be an emergency. Or problem.

Ah.

With Kyoya's behavior I could almost see the way he acted in school. Antisocial. Aloof. Maybe rude and rebellious to the teachers. Perhaps even bullying.

No, Kyoya didn't bully. He 'kept the peace and discipline'.

I snickered.

Truthfully, I didn't have much of a problem with the first few. I was antisocial in school, I was pretty rude to the teachers, but I guess I wasn't quite bold enough to throw their words in their face or strong enough to resort to violence. I didn't bully people, but I did look down on the losers who simply took what people dished out to them without complaint. Didn't they know that they were just setting themselves up as easy pickings?

I couldn't understand why anyone could be so weak as to just _allow_ someone else to step all over them. Sure, they were stronger, or have bigger numbers, but it was obvious that if you established that you were not fuck with or that you'd at least take a few of them down in a fight, they wouldn't be as eager to screw with you. I'd had a few run-ins with bullies before and I may not have won all the fights, but they left with bad enough injuries that they didn't try again.

There was _no_ excuse. In my opinion, if people allowed others to bully them, they deserved it.

Oh, sorry? You thought I'd be kind and help them out?

Well, let me tell you the way things work in the real world. When people pick on you and you defend yourself, that's obvious because you're defending _yourself._ Once you've established your position in the pecking order and show them you're not going to fold over like a noodle, they leave you alone. Why? Because you're not easy to target, you don't let them hurt you without getting hurt. The cost isn't worth the fun.

 _However,_ if you want to play the hero and go around championing _other people,_ then that's where the trouble starts. _You_ are the one poking your nose into other people's business now. They left you alone because you fought back, but when you start _chasing_ them and protesting their treatment of other people, well, you've intruded on their territory. And then it's not so much for fun as it is to remind everyone the status quo. After all, bullies only come from the very top. If they allow everyone to mouth off at them while they go about their 'business', they'd lose respect (or fear) very fast and their reputation would go downhill. So, they'll start _hunting_ you.

There was a couple of kids back in High School who got driven off by the ruling gang. They tried to (individually) put a stop to the bullying and even started tattling to the teachers. Which was a _big_ no-no. A few ended up in hospital and all of them transferred. Their parents tried to press charges, but there was no evidence and none of them dared to name their attackers.

It's a dog eat dog world out there.

 _But,_ Kyoya was going about it the _wrong_ way. There was no doubt that he was the top dog in school, with his martial arts training, but when the _adults_ were involved, it always made things more complicated. He had yet to learn that there was a different kind of power than physical strength.

I chuckled at my thoughts. Here I was, wondering if I should take it upon myself to explain the mess that was politics to a ten-year-old. I shook my head and ruffled said ten-year-old's hair and decided to wait and see what his school had in store for us.

And just for the fun of it, I didn't say a word at his confused expression.

xXXx

The minute they entered the school, he had his guard up. There was no telling what those worthless excuses for adults had in store for them. Izumi had strolled in completely at ease, even though she _had_ to have an idea of what kind of battleground they were entering.

Kyoya preened a little at the way the rest of the children gave him a wide berth despite their curiosity at his new guardian. It was good to know that even after a week of absence, his reputation was still intact. That it was still a deterrent despite Izumi's obvious friendliness was a bonus.

He narrowed eyes as they were approached by his teacher. Hmph. The irritating windbag had never dared to approach his parents or even Grandmother with such a swaggering walk. Sometimes, he understood his guardian's frustration at her youth. Or perhaps it was just the soft image she projected.

Either way, it was _insulting._ He growled at the man as he neared. To his satisfaction, he flinched.

"Good morning er… Tojita-san, was it?" The windbag greeted with an oily smile, "I'm Hibari-kun's teacher, Morizawa."

Pretending not to know her name, giving out only his last name, and calling him _Hibari-kun_ of all things.

He was going to _bite him to death._

And he would have, if a hand had not gripped his shoulder tightly. He looked up as his guardian gave a steely smile in return that took the worthless man aback, "That's right Morizawa-san. Good morning."

He hadn't bowed in greeting, and neither had she. Kyoya eyed her curiously and decided to watch instead. He remembered when she had told him about allowing her to fight her own battles. This was probably one of those times.

There was a brief pause as the man tried to out-stare his cousin. It ruined the façade of politeness, but when it became obvious that he was about to lose, he withdrew again under the abandoned veil. With an uneasy chuckle, he stepped aside and waved them towards his office.

Huh. He craned his neck to look at her face but it remained the same polite visage it had been. He didn't quite understand what had caused the windbag to back down.

He'd been one of the more persistent teachers when he first started school, and had even called his parents once. Of course, after that first meeting, he had studiously avoided mentioning them again, but he had to be applauded for his courage (or was it stupidity?).

When they had died he had pounced on the opportunity and called Grandmother, but that proved a mistake when she demonstrated that she, too, was a Hibari. It was almost laughable how the man cowered when he discovered that she was not just a kindly old lady.

And now, it seemed that he would be trying a third time. Kyoya had to admit that for a cowardly windbag, he was rather tenacious. He had been… concerned this time. Izumi had been determined and stubborn in the face of the avaricious officials, but he wasn't sure if she knew how to handle this outright resentment and hostility.

Perhaps he had been a little remiss in his attitude?

He knew that his reactions were considered extreme. Knew that violence was considered extreme no matter the argument. However, he had no patience for all their ridiculous logic and reasoning and pacifying words. He had made it clear that he preferred to be left alone, and thus assaulted the idiot who persisted in following his every step like a dog even after he had snarled at him to leave. It was not his fault that some people required physical means to be convinced.

However, to them, it was too _extreme._ Too _violent._ He was _out of control_ and his upbringing was poor. The whispers had started after his parents had died and the staff grew bolder.

Such slander would not be tolerated. He had been told to nip problems in the bud before they had the chance to grow beyond control and thus he bit all of them to death. Especially the windbag who had been particularly eager to stamp out any rebellion to his 'authority'.

He had been taught to respect his elders, but only if they acted as befitted their station. The windbag had _not,_ and thus, neither did he.

The Hibari family rule was absolute. Respect had to be _earned._

He was suddenly a little interested in watching his guardian's performance.

xXXx

The moment we entered the room, _Morizawa-sensei_ had seated himself but not requested us to seat. It was rather obvious a snub, and intended to treat me as if I were a student to be schooled for punishment. I snorted and sat down before he could begin talking _at_ me, giving him an unimpressed look. A look that conveyed my disgust at his lack of manners and reminded him that I was a _recognized adult_. It would take _much more_ for this puffed up self-important plebeian to get one over _me._

It was a little gratifying to watch him twitch.

But again, he rallied, "Izumi-san, there are certain… _matters_ about Hibari-kun's behavior that are rather _worrying."_

"Morizawa-san," I replied firmly, "I did not give you permission to address me by name."

There was slight floundering as he realized that not only had he slipped up on his earlier 'forgetting' of my name, he could not refute my sentence. He had been trying to treat me like a child, and thus talk down to me. Allowing him to do so would have sealed the image—naïve and easy to lead by the nose—in his eyes and ruin any standing I had. He would talk over me. At me. And treat me as if I were another one of his students _._

_Like hell I'd let him do that._

I recognized the type easily enough. The kind of person who used to be bullied in school and grew up to become what he once feared—and _envied._ The kind of person who grew up and discovered the power an adult held over children, probably the only reason he was a teacher in the first place. He relished his authority and the way people had to obey him.

He was the sort of person I would love to _crush._

There was some embarrassed coughing before he got back on track. I picked out some wariness in his stance and inwardly smirked.

"Er… Right. Tojita-san, I would like to discuss your ward's behavior."

"Oh? Has he broken any rules?"

"He is prone to violence and exhibits overly aggressive behavior."

"Has he broken any rules?"

"He beats up students who annoy him and even teachers!"

"Was it warranted?"

"Any violent behavior should be against the rules!"

"So, has he broken any rules?"

I stared at the huffing man blandly. His face was red and slowly turning purple with indignation. I knew very well what the rules in Elementary school were and the truth was that _none_ of them were against violence as a _whole_. There were rules against _bullying,_ but if what I suspected was true, Kyoya was not _actually_ doing that _._ And any protests by the _adult_ staff over their inability to control a prepubescent child would be laughed at.

If this were a private school it would be a different story, but public schools didn't care about image as much. In fact, even if it _were_ a private school, Kyoya would not be penalized because what he did was not affecting the image. Just the ego of the teachers. Fights amongst students were common (boys will be boys) and 'beating up students who annoy him' sounded like he was the one who was provoked. That could very well be why they had so much trouble pinning any blame on him. In addition, since Elementary School was _compulsory_ education, the government would hardly expel Kyoya from a public school without a very good reason.

_Good boy. Makes my work so much easier._

I resisted the urge to cackle madly. There was at least one of these teachers in every school, and they were always cowards who hid behind their 'authority'. While Kyoya's violence _was_ a concern, I wasn't going to put up with some middle-aged bully pushing me around and telling me how to guide my own ward. Besides, what kind of guardian would I be if I didn't defend him? Kyoya was _family,_ and regardless of his actions, I would stand by him. _Always._ I knew how it felt not to have someone on your side, and I would _never_ do it to him.

We could talk about these things in private.

But in _public,_ this moron could go screw himself with a power drill.

"I… I will not stand for this! His behavior is outrageous! He needs to be disciplined!" _Morizawa-san_ was frothing at the mouth in anger, "I'll have him expelled!"

xXXx

Kyoya watched as his cousin stood from her seat slowly. She was rather tall and so, towered over the seated man rather ominously. Then she _smiled,_ and he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand. Throughout this farce of a meeting, she had not raised her voice or so much as twitched in anger, instead keeping a calming hand on his shoulder.

"Morizawa- _san,"_ she spoke smoothly, emphasizing the _san_ in a way that made him realize that she had not called him _sensei_ on purpose, "This is the first day that Kyoya returns to school after his Grandmother died. We are still in mourning and trying our best to return to normal days despite the loss. Since he has not broken any rules, and I have… seen you, there is nothing else to discuss. I shall take my leave then. My ward needs to get to class."

With that, she turned away. He, too, stood up to follow her.

"I have not dismissed you!" the windbag yelled.

Apparently, it was the straw that broke the camel's back. Izumi was patient. Izumi was kind. Izumi was gentle. But, as he had known from day _one,_ she _did not_ let people step over her.

" _Oh?"_ she turned, a glint of steel in her eyes that had the windbag flinching, "I did not recall you _ever_ having the authority to _dismiss me."_

She stalked forward, prompting the man to edge his chair back, "Get this into your head—I am _not_ a student. In fact, I am not _your_ student. I am a _guardian_ of one of your students. _You_ are simply a teacher. Do your job and do not _overstep your boundaries._ Kyoya is _my_ ward. _"_

It was reminiscent of Sunday morning, when she had turned into a demonic figure of fury. But this time, instead of an explosive volcano, it was an icy blizzard. Her voice remained low and unwavering even as she ripped into his now cowering teacher.

" _Expel_ my ward? _You? You_ are _only_ a _teacher._ You have no such authority. Only the _principal_ can expel him. And even then, there has to be _justified cause._ I _know_ the rules. _There have been no broken rules._ There have not even been _complaints from parents._ "

Her lips formed a chilling smile, "I have been Kyoya's guardian for less than a week. And you have been his teacher for… four years? You _dare_ threaten my ward for something that has not been questioned for _four years?_ And _just after his grandmother's death? Would you like to try?_ Would you like to address this question in front of the council? I _will_ take it up to them—I am sure they know me by name already. _"_

"I'm sure they'd be interested to hear your story," she said, leaning forward as the pathetic windbag cringed, " _Especially_ when I describe the manner in which you have treated me. Such… _rude_ behavior. _So_ unbefitting a person who should be guiding our children. Our _future generations."_

She held up what Kyoya realized was a recorder, "And we have _proof."_

He was familiar with the way the windbag's face drained of blood and the way he stuttered as he realized that he was in danger of losing his job. It had been similar to when his parents and Grandmother had been called over.

Except this time, there had been a genuine threat issued.

While he acknowledged that Izumi was probably lacking in terms of pure intimidation in comparison to his other relatives, she made up for it with her newly revealed skill in blackmail.

He wondered when she had prepared the recorder.

"Now," she was back to smiling coolly, "Kyoya will be attending class. _I,"_ she gestured to herself, "shall be sitting in. I want to see _exactly_ how _great_ a teacher you are that you _dare_ tell me how to teach my ward. I want to see what a _great job_ you've been doing these past four years."

She held out a hand imperiously. He took it.

Without another word, they strode out of the office.

As they made their way towards the classrooms, he realized that his lips were stretched into a wide grin.


	12. Chapter 12

Sometimes when I get angry, instead of the loud _blood-coursing-through-my-ears_ experience that I get that makes my face red and my temper explode, I get the complete opposite reaction. It's like the _ice-in-my-veins-take-a-step-back-and-_ _ **watch**_ feeling. It cools my face, freezes my expression, and sometimes I feel as if I'm above my body instead of in it, watching and pulling little strings to move its mouth, its hands, its feet. Looking at my own face and adjusting the way my eyes slant and the way my mouth turns down to get it _just right._ Spinning on my heel after an eloquent _just right_ speech to have _just the right_ effect to let the news ( _reveal-the-recorder-_ _ **now**_ _)_ sink in.

And sometimes, even without turning around, I know _exactly_ what kind of face my _enemy-enemy-_ _ **how-dare-you**_ is making. It's a face that falls, a face that crumbles as it realizes what kind of hole, what kind of _coffin_ , it has dug for itself. It's a face I _relish._

And I feel. No. Remorse.

I'm still frozen as I stride away from the office, still coolly distant as I march towards the classrooms. My retaliation is not complete and I _will not_ _stop_ until it is. My brain is calculating what else to do, what actions to take, what to say what to _take_ so that I can _crush-crush-_ _ **crush**_ my enemy.

I turn to the left, _knowing_ that this is the right way to go, but suddenly there is a hitch. My arm jars slightly, pulling back behind me.

I stop.

"…Izumi?"

xXXx

Kyoya looks up into the blank face of his guardian and restrains the urge to shiver. It is a _cold-cold-cold_ expression and her eyes are dark and foreboding. His previous grin slips from his lips as he looks into her face and sees a stranger looking back.

This isn't his guardian.

…Is it?

He calls her name with just a little hesitation. He isn't sure what to make of this new facet of her, isn't sure how to reconcile this diamond-hard statue with the soft, gentle girl. He's apprehensive, and a small voice is telling him to _run-run-run._

_I_ _**can't** _ _she has my_ _**hand.** _

He feels a tremor threatening to run up his spine and squashes it ruthlessly ( _a Hibari does not show fear)_ , straightens his back and looks back into those eyes. He's breathing just a little lightly ( _don't let them hear you)_ and he can't move his legs ( _ **runrunrun**_ _)_.

She bends down, but it's still the cold stranger staring back.

"Kyoya," her voice is the same, yet not. He has never heard such a toneless sound come from her mouth. He wants to pull away.

For some reason, he doesn't.

She leans closer and he doesn't edge away. Her hair brushes his arm and it feels numb. He can almost feel the white puffs of air from her mouth.

He remains completely still.

"I won't let him get away with this," she whispers, the soft hissing sounds making the hairs on the back of his neck stand.

And suddenly, he _knows_ that she won't. Knows it like he knows the rules of his family.

It's all she says before she turns away again, and he still can't breathe normally, but it's okay, he knows she's doing it for him now. He doesn't tighten his grip, but he doesn't want to pull away anymore, and he is quiet as she leads them unerringly to his classroom and settles like a wraith at the back of the class.

He feels a little relieved as he is released at his desk, but as he remembers what that windbag said, what he tried to do, the anticipation returns.

As does the grin, but it is _much_ darker now.

xXXx

The children file into the class slowly, in ones and twos and sometimes threes. All of them see her and shudder a little. Some burst into tears. The parents do not see anything amiss—they do not have the sensitivity of children. They see a pretty girl seating at the back of the class with an absent look on her face and think that she is an assistant, an intern, the person watching the class in the teacher's absence.

They push their shaking children forward and bustle off to work. The more attached mothers give gentle pats to their heads and attempt to sooth them for a while before leaving. They think it is Monday Blues, think that their children are reluctant to go back to school.

As the children are abandoned to their fate, they shuffle carefully, warily to their seats. When she does not react, they settle down and, with the tenacity of youth, proceed to ignore her presence as best as they can. The braver ones even start whispering to their friends. Voices become a little louder when she does not move.

The atmosphere is fairly normal again when a little brunette stumbles in with his arms wrapped around his mother's waist. He is sniffling as usual, desperate not to leave his protector's side, but when he enters the room he stiffens.

He doesn't cry, no. His face drains of blood and he tries to hide behind his mother's skirts. His lips turn blue and though they move frantically, no sound comes out. His eyes are fixed to the back of the class.

His mother doesn't notice, so used to his fearful reactions every day. She pries him off and, with a merry wave, leaves him trembling in front of the class.

The wrong class. There is not a familiar face looking back at him. Kyoya looks on in dark amusement. He is in the mood to take pleasure in someone's discomfort.

It takes a long, long time before the stares pierce through his fear and embarrassment overcomes terror. He shuffles slowly, like an arthritic old man, and it is _ages_ before he reaches an empty seat—right beside the woman of ice. He sits as if there is a metal board nailed to his back and as he takes out his notebook and pencil case, his fingers tremble.

Kyoya watches him in interest. He knows the names of every student in the school and this usually clumsy child is unexpectedly hazard-free today.

It is another eternity before the windbag arrives. By then, Kyoya can see the way Sawada Tsunayoshi's legs tremble from the strain and how the veins in his neck stand out—the blue stark against his pale, pale skin. The boy hasn't moved from his position since he took his things out and arranged them on his table. His breathing is soft and faint.

The teacher doesn't even notice him. He takes one look at _her_ and makes a choking sound. Unlike when the parents entered, she is no longer looking on placidly. Instead, her eyes gleam darkly and pierce through him. She looks like a predator stalking her prey.

Quietly, Kyoya watches on.

xXXx

The windbag is ashen when he ends the lesson. He is trembling and averting his eyes and looks as if a gust of wind could blow him away. He knows that the class was pathetic. Knows that he has gotten many of his facts wrong.

Remembers the little recorder in the girl's hands.

The class was unusually subdued, but they have forgotten her presence in the same way one forgets something traumatic. They simply do not see her as they make their way out for recess.

Only the little brunette remains stock still in his seat, looking as if he has aged a decade.

And then he jumps, hands flying to his mouth.

She has risen from her seat and is approaching him. No, she passes him and goes to Kyoya instead.

Her face is still hard, but the look in her eyes is a little warmer. There is satisfaction there that makes something in his chest curl and purr. He has made notes of every single stutter, every single too-long pause, and every nonsensical babbling. Made notes and smiled secretly at the memory of the little recorder in elegant fingers, the sleek black gadget gleaming sinisterly.

He looks up at her and, as Sawada Tsunayoshi looks on in mute horror, they share a smirk.

xXXx

My chest loosens as I release the tension in my frame. I have everything I need to bring down Morizawa. No doubt, he has run to the principal for protection and support. He thinks that by getting to him first, he will be able to sway him to his side.

It is the opposite.

By telling him what has happened, he is confirming that what he has done is real. He will have admitted to having an _unorthodox_ parent-teacher meeting with me. The principal may have 'unofficially' supported it, but he has to deny that.

Why?

Because he knows that if he supports it, it will be his downfall as well. He will be the principal who tried to take advantage of a student's guardian's youth and supposed inexperience. He will be the bully who cannot even control a single student. It will be a PR disaster for him.

Morizawa is a fool. He has hammered the final nail in his coffin for me.

Perhaps he will dance around the facts and try to portray himself in a more favorable light, but with the recorder, everything will be null.

Such a fool. He should have pretended that nothing ever happened instead.

If he did, I would have two choices. Go to the principal myself, or blackmail him with the evidence in my hands. Both would not have the same amount of success as the first option. For one, if he pretended that nothing happened, the principal would be able to deny my claims and going to officials would harm my reputation more than it was worth stirring up a scandal.

After all, who can trust someone who records every conversation?

Blackmailing him would render myself implicit to a crime. That would not only put me at a disadvantage, but if he realizes that the information in my hands will not last, he will be free. It would look suspicious if I kept the evidence for months before finally coming forward. And blackmail would be a crime worse than what he has done.

By approaching the principal, he will open up many more options for me.

And the best scenario would be…

"Tojita-san, may I speak with you?"

I smile at the principal, "Of course."

xXXx

Kyoya is slightly wary when the fat principal approaches his cousin. He sees the smug look on the windbag's face and feels fury surge through his body. He does not like what is happening.

But the look on Izumi's face is cool and composed.

When she nods at him, he is on his feet instantly. He takes her hand as they follow the fat pig to his obnoxiously extravagant office. He feels satisfaction thrum as the bastards' faces fall slightly.

The fat pig gestures to the chairs with a greasy smile. He climbs into his own and leans forward on his desk when they are seated. The look in his eyes is pandering.

Kyoya restrains a contemptuous snort. He knows now is not the time to interfere.

"Tojita-san," the pig drawls in what he assumes is an affectionate tone, "Morizawa-sensei has notified me of the… misunderstanding you have had this morning. I assure you that we will not expel your ward, in fact, he is a prized student in our school. Sensei was simply… confused today. I hope we can come to an understanding…?"

There is another surge of satisfaction as he realizes that his cousin has forced the pig to bow to her. Something that he has not been able to do. He wonders at her next actions.

"I am sure we can compensate you for your… cooperation. Please, do make your requirements known."

Kyoya smirks. He turns to Izumi to share another satisfied look.

But the expression on her face is carefully blank. He feels the smirk fall and wariness return.

"You want me to give you the recorder," she says in a voice carved from stone.

The pig's smile widens, "Yes, if you would be so kind. I am sure we can come to an understanding about this."

"You will compensate me for the loss," she states again in the same tone.

"Yes, yes. Within reason, of course. But I believe it would be much more advantageous to you to take us up on our offer."

There is a long silence in which she examines her opponent's face carefully before she nods. From her sleeve, she produces the recorder. The windbag eyes it greedily, but she grips it tightly and says, "I want him fired. Immediately."

There is a pause, and the windbag's face whitens, but the pig's remains amiable as he nods encouragingly and stretches out his hand. It is another moment before she drops the little black device into it.

Kyoya is slightly disappointed.

The pig's smile widens and he nods again, but his face is now dismissive. He delivers a few more pandering pleasantries before they are ushered out.

Izumi's face is expressionless, and Kyoya feels something missing, maybe just a little resentment, but he thinks that he might respect his guardian a lot more now. She may not have used her advantage to the fullest, but she has removed the problem.

It is enough.

He has an uneasy feeling as he returns home, but he ignores it.

xXXx

It is not enough.

They arrive the next day and the windbag is _still there._

He is smiling smugly at her and the look in his eyes is triumphant. Kyoya realizes with a sinking feeling that they have made a mistake.

There is no more evidence and they cannot prove _anything._ They have been _tricked._ He rages and snarls and spits, but Izumi's hand is tight around his collar and the _bastard's_ face is satisfied and smirking and he wants to _bite him to death._ He roars and strains against her even as he chokes on disappointment, on resentment, on the unfairness of it all.

She pulls him aside and squeezes him in her arms again, but even that can't take away the _bitterbitterbitter_ taste of _failurefailurefailure._ He swallows and gasps and chokes as she runs hands through his hair and murmurs softly, quietly, _Kyoya don't do anything don't do anything everything's fine everything's fine._

Everything was _**not**_ fine.

But he clenches his teeth and nods when she asks him to. Flexes his fingers but keeps them away from his weapons and sits in class silently because she asks him to. Ignores the snide remarks and the smug looks and the casual, insidious comments _because she asks him to._

And when it is time to return, he walks stiffly to the gate.

There is surprise, and shock, and then a return of _yesssss_ as he sees the officer beside her. She gives him a slow, sly smile and her eyes are again dark and dangerous as she waves a _second_ recorder in her hand. The oily bastard takes one look at her and freezes. His greasy boss follows suit a while later.

There is some arguing, some shouting, some protesting and even an attempt to hit the officer, but finally, _finallyfinallyfinally,_ the two are pushed into a car and away and Izumi is looking at him and grinning and holding her arms up and he is running at her and laughing and she swings him in the air.

They are breathless in glee and satisfaction and _yesyesyes_ and he doesn't mind as she, with shining eyes, plants a wet kiss to his forehead right in public.

xXXx

And the best scenario would be if the principal was alarmed enough to approach me himself and attempt to cover the situation. The truth is, I had nothing on him and he could have gotten off scot free if he had denied all relations to Morizawa. But with my forceful actions (insisting on sitting in on his class) and how badly I had shaken his crony _,_ he would have been shaken as well and saw a threat to himself when he went to him.

Thus approaching me and implicating himself.

Proposing the deal was just an unexpected bonus. It made him guilty of attempted bribery. I could not have made it better. Or perhaps I did—by recording his words as well.

After all, one can never be _too_ prepared.


	13. Chapter 13

It's been a few days since that big hoo-ha with the teacher and principal at Namimori Elementary school. Been a few days since I crushed their careers and sent them to jail (not for very long, but still) for bribery charges. Been a few days since I last had the sweet taste of victory and _revenge_ on my tongue. The only thing that could be better would be blood.s

Ah, I wonder what to do now? It's been a while since I've had this feeling.

Kyoya would probably freak out if he discovered this side of me.

This… _sadistic_ side of me.

It pops up from time to time, mostly when I tease people, and sometimes it sharpens my words just a tad with malicious glee. And that's usually the worst of it.

But sometimes I get caught unawares.

And then my mind goes down a dark hole.

The battle with those bigwigs at Kyoya's school had rekindled my darker desires. It was like the awakening of an old friend from a long, long sleep. It slithered over my shoulders and hissed sweet suggestions into my ears.

I wanted to crush someone again. Wanted to re-experience that delightful thrill of inflicting misery on someone else. Misery, pain, despair, whatever. As long as my opponent ends up crying on his knees, begging for mercy, and I get that feeling of _yesss, I_ _ **win**_ _._ It makes my body tingle.

That sounds a little perverted…

 _And_ , not a very good role model for a kid.

The story I told Kyoya about my past? It's not so much a lie as the 'not so long' version. I mean, there were definitely things I didn't remember at that moment, but there were parts I didn't include on purpose.

I mean, I can't tell the kid I used to run with a gang right?

Yeah, you heard right. I used to be what they call a 'Yankee'.

It's not Yakuza, nothing as organized as that. We were just a bunch of teenagers too angst-ridden and confused with what they wanted in life and not knowing how to vent that frustration except picking fights and kicking the shit out of people. And getting the shit kicked out of us in turn.

Gangs are pretty common in Tokyo. Sometimes they have ties with Yakuza, but most times they keep to themselves. As in, there's a different circle for gangs. The Yakuza sometimes approaches some of us for recruitment when they think someone has some potential, but mostly they just let us do our shit with the indulgence of doting uncles. Our territories may overlap and sometimes one gang claims land that belongs to Yakuza but usually they don't really mind as long as we don't intrude on their business.

It's like, we're the 'sandbox' version of Yakuza. Sometimes they even sit in to watch us fight it out and bet and stuff. They'll even provide First Aid if we gave them a good show and they're feeling generous. They probably feel all nostalgic and crap when they see us young'uns duke it out and puking blood and raging like mad dogs at everything and nothing. To them, we're like what they used to be.

We don't really give a damn, except we still have some self-preservation not to piss of those old-timers and we're not hardcore enough to challenge someone who can carry a gun around freely. Or 'trades' in drugs and women and all that serious shit.

So yeah, we don't step on their toes and they just let us go around fighting and slaking our thirst for blood and maybe winning them a couple Yen from the bookies.

All girl gangs aren't as uncommon as you think, there were at least three of them around my area, but I, just to be different, purposely ran with a male-dominated one. I think I was the only girl gang member really, since the others were just the girlfriends of the others. And no, I didn't have sex with any of them. Like I said before, I made it too costly to be worth the little bit of fun they'd get.

Thank Kami for my parents forcing me to take self-defense classes. And my previous interests in sports.

And well, my 'comrades' and I became pretty tight after a few close calls. I've saved their collective asses more times than they have mine and they know it.

Must be the lack of testosterone.

So yeah, I got to call the shots most of the time despite being a girl and they didn't have any problems with that. Or else.

So how did I fall in with such a crowd?

It's a long story.

It started in the first half of my College year, when I was feeling miserable, guilty _and_ frustrated at my failure. I was kind of in a 'blame everyone but me' phase even though I knew deep down that it was my own fault for screwing up.

So, half of me was railing against the world, thinking that everyone was out to get me, while the other was kind of cringing and whining and basically having a pity party of the most epic proportions.

Kami, I was so pathetic then.

Being the hot-blooded brainless teenager I was, the immediate response was to lash out. Itching for a fight as I was, I probably held the title of Most Irritable Douchebag in school.

Everyone avoided me. I had trouble finding partners for projects, and I definitely had no friends.

There were fights. Well, not everyone was the type to be cowed by a glare and aggressive behavior or smack-talk, so yeah. I fought. Mostly with guys. Ugh, some were pretty bad. I still wonder how I never got suspended. Must be because I was a girl.

Pretty soon, people started backing off when they saw me get up again and again and again with something like a lunatic's grin on my face. They probably got freaked out at how deranged I was. I just wouldn't stay _down._ Even with half my body feeling like one big bruise and maybe a broken rib or two that made my breath hitch.

Some of it was the need to hit something and sooth the frustration in me, but some of it was the newly discovered fascination with causing pain. I found that I _liked_ seeing people in pain. It gave me a sense of euphoria similar to a drug. I even wanted to try killing someone, just to find out if it'd bring me to new heights of joy.

Again, yeah, you heard me. I wanted to _kill_ them. Someone. Anyone would do really.

I used to close my eyes and feel blood sliding between my fingers, fluid but thicker than water, sticky and just a little warm. And I'd shiver a little in excitement and wonder if I'd have to resort to cutting to get that feeling.

But I never did. For one, I found no joy in getting hurt, it was just hurting someone else that I liked. For another, I wasn't one of those people who found 'release' in cutting. I mean, it's my _arm_ dude, I need it to punch people and stuff, why would I weaken it? And who knew what'd happen if I accidentally cut too deep and shit and ended up screwing myself over? As fucked up as I was, I wasn't _that_ messed up _._

But I wasn't like those cowards who only wanted to hurt people when they wouldn't be in danger—I was completely willing to get hurt if only I could see the other person cry. Taste that fear and see that _shit-this-chick's-completely-crazy_ look in their eyes and hear them screaming _fuck-stop-it-stop-it-please-stop-please-please-ple ase-I'm-sorry-I'msorry'msorry'msorry_ as they curl up into a ball to escape the worst of the pain.

It gave me the chills. Heck just remembering it _still_ gives me the chills.

Once I discovered this new feeling, I began craving more of it. To the point that I was picking fights alone in the streets with whole gangs. Small ones, but more than I could handle. Those were painful days, and I was probably half-mad then, but I learned the most from them. How to dodge, where to hit, how to take a hit, and most important of all: how to crawl back home alive.

There were some _really_ close calls.

Later on, I became well-known enough that gangs started actively recruiting me and I fell in with one that gave me a decent feeling. There was some trouble with a few backstabbers, but in the core group, we were thick as thieves. I learnt to trust my gut, as well as the importance of having someone at your back.

I'd forgotten that feeling, wrapped in all the warm cuddliness that was the previous days. Or maybe the whole latter half of the year when I met my friends.

When my parents died.

I quit the gang, then. Got my act together and decided to walk the straight and narrow. Told my buddies I was done with screwing around and that it was over.

That I'd opened my eyes and decided to stop running away.

If they didn't owe me as much as they did, I'd probably have to go through the 'normal' route. That is, get the stuffing beaten out of me. And probably raped too, now that I think about it.

Some of the idiots who never liked me were all for it, but I was part of the core, part of the few who would lead the charge. Their opinions didn't mean shit.

And yes, I probably shouldn't speak so lightly about it. But what the heck, it didn't happen to me, so I'm cool. And we still keep in contact. They're decent people when they're not out prowling for blood. Daiki admits that it's not the same without me—I was one of the more vicious members. He still can't believe I turned out to be such a 'chirpy idiot'.

Whatever. I should probably stop. These feelings should wear off in a while. They did after I stopped fighting.

Kyoya doesn't need me to fuck him over like that. He's been through enough shit.

But dammit, I can't stop thinking about it now that I've had another taste. It's like an addiction, one that I have no idea how I kicked.

I'm hunched over a cup of tea in the kitchen in the middle of the night, wishing it was booze instead. I need to wake up at six o' clock tomorrow and I'm up in the middle of the night. Worse still, I'm craving alcohol. Just… I can already see where I'd be heading in a few days.

I need to pull myself together.

I can't let this… bloodlust overwhelm me. I have responsibilities.

But Kyoya didn't even _blink_ when I did my shit. I _know_ I get fucking scary when I get into that zone—my old buddies told me they stopped halfway sometimes because they thought that I'd seriously kill someone. It wasn't _exactly_ the same since I wasn't _physically_ beating someone up, but it's almost as good since I was basically planning how to ruin their lives… How I destroy someone doesn't really matter as much as the result…

Maybe he was acting brave? He's got so much practice acting blank after all…

What am I thinking? I should just _stop._ Even if he was cool with _that time_ I shouldn't be acting that way in front of a kid. _At all._ He's matured and likes fighting, but that's probably the adrenaline. And any way you look at it, I just can't bring up a kid into someone like me. It's _sick._

Can you even _bring up_ someone to become a sadist? My parents were pretty normal people and look how I turned out…

Again. What the hell?! I shouldn't be making excuses and trying to get out of not doing my duty. It's my _duty_ dammit. And I'm not going to ruin our lives just because I'm feeling twitchy.

 _Fuck_ , I really want to hurt someone…

I need to go to sleep. I can't afford to indulge my stupid fantasies. The thing at the school was just a one-off deal. There's hardly going to be that many corrupt people or whatever that go out of their way to ruin our lives. And I'm not that far gone to start picking fights with random strangers. Again.

I'm going to sleep.

xXXx

It had been a few days since the Blackmailing Incident. But while it was a great victory over the arrogant bastards, Kyoya was beginning to feel that it had come at a cost.

Izumi was acting strangely.

He didn't know what was wrong. They had achieved success and defeated their enemies, and they had celebrated and rejoiced. He'd relished this proof that they could overcome even those in power. Izumi, herself, had been darkly satisfied.

But now, there was an invisible tension in the air. He couldn't understand it, but Izumi had been prowling around the house with _that_ particular gait. Like she was stalking something. Looking for something. Or some _one._ She didn't cling to him as much, didn't hug him, kiss him, ruffle his hair or even just pat his shoulder.

And no, he wasn't _missing_ them.

He _wasn't._ Shut up.

Anyway, the main point was the Izumi was unhappy and he had no idea why. The only clue he had was that it had happened immediately after the Blackmailing Incident. Which was confusing, because he thought she'd be feeling the opposite.

She wasn't regretting it…right?

Or… had they stirred up more trouble by their actions?

Or maybe… she was having second thoughts about adopting him because of the whole _cupboard_ full of problems he seemed to come with?

…

Okay, he wasn't going to pitch _another_ fit over being abandoned. His guardian would probably slap him on the head for being so insecure. She'd already pounded it into his brain that he was as good as stuck with her _forever._

And he didn't _do_ clingy. That was _Izumi's_ area of expertise _._

But he _was_ going to confront her over this. Who knows what could be going on in her head? Maybe she was stressed over the finances or something (and yeah, he _knows_ his gut feels differently, but _still…)_ or maybe he hadn't shown his appreciation and she felt offended or maybe she was getting tired of him…

…

He was going to confront her.

But…later. Those dark clouds around her didn't look very er… _receptive_ to interrogation at the moment.

And _no,_ he wasn't _afraid…_

He was just being…considerate. Of _her._ Because, you know, she probably needs some space…

But he _was_ going to confront her. Later. _Soon_.


	14. Chapter 14

Another week had flown by when Kyoya finally drummed up enough cour— _gotten fed up_ of Izumi's confusing and frustrating behavior. He was watching her hang up the clothes in an almost violent fashion when he decided to pop the Question. He thought that it would go away after a while, but enough was enough. He missed— _was pissed off_ with her behavior and this was _not_ the way a guardian should act. It was her responsibility to pay attention to him— _his needs, dammit. His needs._

And one of his _needs_ was _proper_ _attention_. After all, how could she take care of him if she was stuck on whatever it was that had stolen— _caught_ her attention?

See? Her weird behavior was affecting him!

He glared at her unsuspecting back for good measure and harrumphed.

"What is it, Kyoya?"

He did _not_ jump at her voice! He just wasn't used to that… blank tone. She sounded like she was trying to rein in her temper.

He glanced up when a shadow fell over him. Well, crap, he now understood how the windbag felt when she loomed over him. If he hadn't been such a bastard, he'd be pitying him right now.

"Kyoya?"

Okay, fine. He jolted a little. A skinny girl like that shouldn't have such an oppressive aura. It should be _illegal._ It wasn't _fair._ And now he wanted punch himself in the face because apparently his jaw had decided to loosen itself _without his permission_.

Izumi must be rubbing off him more than he realized.

But that wasn't the point, he decided, giving her a Look. She'd been acting weirdly and he was _concerned._ So yes, he wanted to know what was going on with her.

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…Repeat that?"

Before he could help himself, he groaned. And hung his head. And just all around desecrated the Hibari Family Rule of Good Etiquette and Posture.

And Image. Never forget the Image.

 _Kami,_ now he had Izumi's sarcastic voice in his head. Where did the days when he observed the rules faithfully go?

"… _Kyoya."_

That tone of voice should be illegal too. It made him want to duck his head in shame. He thought only Mother could do that…

And here he thought she already understood well enough that he didn't have to _say_ things. Didn't he know there were _limits_ to things like that?

Grudgingly, he actually _sounded out_ the embarrassing words. "Are. You. Feeling. Alright."

"…"

Had _he_ turned into the chatty one now? Izumi was putting his wordlessness to shame. Seriously. Maybe he ought to ask her to change her family name to Hibari…

Now that was a thought… Hibari Izumi…

"…Why are you turning red?"

"…"

"Your face looks constipated…"

" _Hn."_

"It _does._ What were you thinking about?"

"Stop avoiding my question…"

"And stop avoiding _my_ question."

"I asked first!"

"What are you, five?"

"Just tell me already!"

"You first."

" _You_ first!"

"Nope. Guardian rights."

"That's not fair!"

"Too bad. Now spill."

…She was becoming just a little more evil than usual…

"…"

"I can't understand that mumbling."

"I was thinking if you'd change your name…"

"To what? I kind of like Izumi…"

He valiantly resisted the urge to…what did Izumi call it? Facepalm. Yes, that was it. Was she being thick on purpose? "Not _that_ name…"

"You mean Tojita? To what? …oh."

"…"

"Why would your face turn red? It's just registering a cha— _what."_

"…"

"…Sorry kid but you're too young for me."

"It's only five years!"

"… _Holy shit,_ are we seriously talking about this? You're _serious?"_

"…"

"That's…seriously cute. Like… _adorable_ cute. I'm your first puppy love. Huh."

"…"

"Stop glaring, it _is_ puppy love. Honestly. If you still feel the same way after you reach my age, maybe we'll have another talk, okay?" *mumbles* "A seriously disturbing talk."

"Your turn to answer my question."

"…"

"I told you what I was thinking about!"

"And it was adorable."

"Stop avoiding the question."

" _Tsk."_

"…Well?"

"I'm just… feeling a little… er… not very nice."

That sounded kind of familiar… Something Father'd warned him about, "Is this about that thing girls have every month?"

His guardian squawked, looking scandalized, "WOT? The heck did you learn something like that?!" She took a few more minutes to examine him with a disturbed expression on her face before settling down beside him, "I think we'll need to talk about that later on…"

He gave her a deadpanned look to inform her that her ploy was not working. She rolled her eyes and huffed, more lightheartedly than she had been the past few days, but that quickly subsided into something more sober.

She sighed.

"Okay, look. I have like, some f— _messed up_ sh— _stuff_ in my head and it's trippy as hell and it's sort of not very nice. I'm a little—a _lot_ actually—erm, _mean._ And I really, really don't want to scr— _mess_ you up too."

He blinked.

She continued, wringing her hands, "That thing at the school with the blackmail and shi— _stuff_ was bad and yeah, they deserved it, but it was still bad in that it's _illegal_ and you shouldn't be following it because you could get in trouble with that and I don't want you growing up thinking stuff like that's _okay_ because it's _not_ and you could get caught and put to jail and you _really_ don't want to go to jail because there's all sorts of fu—sh— _bad things_ there."

He blinked again.

She gave him a failed glare, "Well? I've spilt my guts to you!"

And what did _that_ mean?

"… You are _so_ sheltered. It means that I've shared my thoughts, okay? Geez, don't tell me you haven't had the Talk yet…"

He could hear the capitalized word. What was she referring to? He tilted his head at her in confusion.

"…Oh. My. God."

The dumbstruck expression was rare on her face, but even stranger was the look of horror and desperation. He wondered what was so important about this Talk that she was going into convulsions over it.

"…Okay. I think they give it at school nowadays. I _think._ Oh my god. I need to check that. Oh my god. Oh my god. How could I have forgotten?! Oh my god." And now she was holding her head and walking in circles.

He was getting a little worried at her extreme reaction.

"Okay!" She slapped her cheeks and pointed a determined finger at him, "If you haven't gotten the talk by… fifteen… no sixteen… argh… erm… er… Middle School starts when you're thirteen… I only have three years?!"

He eyed her warily as she flailed her arms. What was so important about this Talk?

"Why can't you give it to me now?"

"NO!" She bellowed, making him jump. Holding her arms in front of her in an 'X', she shook her head vigorously, "Nonononono! I am NOT giving the Talk to a ten-year-old kid! Nu-uh! No siree. Nope. Not going to happen. NO."

She tugged at her hair a little as she continued pacing, "Why me? Why me? I didn't sign up for this you stupid arghhhhh. Fate, you bitch. I wondered why you were being so nice to me, but you _bitch._ How could you do this to meeeeeeeee!"

And now she was whining. It obviously wasn't as bad as she was making it out to be, seeing as she was being more dramatic and comically horrified than true despair. He rolled his eyes and allowed her to rail at the sky and fulfill her need for theatrics. It had taken him some time, but he now understood what his father meant when he said women were weird.

While it had been in reference to his mother, it obviously applied to all females in general.

"So give it to me later then," he said in annoyance. If she still had three years, she should be prepared by then, right? Not that he was particularly interested in whatever it was that had her pitching such a fit. He steered the conversation back to what he _did_ want to know.

"What did you mean by messed up? What things?"

He wasn't quite sure what Izumi was talking about. She'd said that she hadn't wanted to 'mess things up' and he understood that she was referring to their situation, but he hadn't realized that there was a problem in the first place. And about her being 'mean', which he took to refer to her blackmailing, was perfectly alright with him. Admirable, even.

She gave a frustrated growl, which made him cautious. He didn't want to provoke any of her ire, especially when he had seen the effects of it. Not that he was _afraid,_ but she could make his life uncomfortable.

To his relief—there was _no shame_ at being apprehensive of someone who had ruined two peoples' lives in as many days—she merely gave another exasperated sigh and rubbed her face. It was a few minutes before she turned back to him.

"You know what? I think I need to sort this out first, Kyoya," she told him quietly, "I have problems and I won't lie, but I have to deal with them. Myself."

That wasn't fair, he frowned. He could _help._ He wasn't useless.

Again, she proved how well she knew him. Running a hand through his hair, she attempted to smile, "It's not you, it's me. I want to do right by you and truthfully, you really are too young." She held up a hand to stall his protests, "You _are._ I know you're smart and matured for your age, but this is something you shouldn't have to deal with."

He scowled furiously, what right did _she_ have to decide for him?

"Let me worry about this okay?" She continued gravely, "I promise this won't get out of hand. I just don't want to burden you when you're still dealing with so much."

"You're helping just by being around."

He wanted to demand answers, but Izumi gave him another strained smile. And he relented.

That didn't mean that he had to like it, though.

xXXx

Hiroto had been acquainted with the Hibari family for a long time. He'd known the current young master's grandmother—Hibari Mikumi-sama—as well as his _great-_ grandparents. Although that was mostly because he had once been Hibari-sama's suitor, but that was old history now.

Ahem. Anyway.

Suffice to say he was very familiar with the members as well as their unique quirks. And Tojita Izumi-san, no matter the different surname, was very much a member of that family. And as such, he was not surprised when she revealed what she did.

Hum. He had not pegged her for a former gang member. Those younglings were usually just frustrated and confused by growing up and sought an outlet in blind destruction and chaos. Izumi-ojou-san was far more put together and sharp than that. Although, he realized that it wasn't so farfetched for an immature Hibari to revel in pure violence and enjoy the simplicity of it.

Izumi-san turned back from her hair pulling and gave him a gimlet eye. It was a cringe-worthy look, but he had had plenty of experience with those. When he refused to be cowed, her shoulders slumped. She shrugged a little helplessly and sat down again.

She sighed, "What should I do?"

He inclined his head sympathetically, but knew that it wasn't his place to dictate her actions. She was unsure of herself—a phase of youth—but she was not as lost as her peers. She wanted simple, clean lines and clearly defined boundaries, but alas, reality was not so kind.

She, herself, knew this.

"I cannot say that I understand exactly what you are going through, ojou-san," he finally spoke up gently, drawing her intense gaze. "But I would like to say that I think you are holding up admirably under such a great responsibility. That you have thought about the young master's future so deeply heartens me."

She shot him a crooked smile, knowing very well that he had not answered her question.

As he said, sharp.

Running a hand down her face, she sighed gustily, but he knew that she would pull herself together again after a moment. True to his expectations, she visibly straightened and squared her shoulders, "Yeah, I know." She shrugged a little, "It's just—I'm afraid—I don't want to screw this up."

"…This?"

She made a vague gesture with her hand, "You know, _this._ Kyoya and I. Us." A small glint of humor appeared in her eyes, "That sounded a little misleading."

He chortled, "You won't."

"And you _know_ this, how?"

"You won't," he insisted, "You're doing everything right." Wonderfully, even. He would have taken the young Hibari under his wing— _had_ intended to in the beginning—but he had realized that young as she was, Izumi had the right instincts. It was amazing how easily she had broken through the boy's walls. He smiled even more than he used to, even before the loss of Hibari-sama.

Now _she_ snorted, "You're kidding right? It hasn't been a month and I've already created a commotion at his school. I'm not saying what I did was not…unprovoked, but anyone could tell you that it wasn't exactly the best way to go about integrating into a new town."

She hadn't said it was _wrong,_ he noted, just that it could have been better executed. And her concern was more about conforming to the town's societal expectations to ease her—and by extension, her ward's—life in it.

How very Hibari, indeed.

Perhaps it was time to put some of her fears at ease. He had no doubt that she would groom the young master into a great man worthy of the Hibari name even _without_ knowing its extensive history, but she needed to know some things.

And so, he settled himself more comfortably and started telling a story of bits and pieces of history and tradition that had been learnt at the feet of his own parents.

xXXx

I made myself comfortable as Hiroto-san's voice reached that cadence that indicated Story Time. I'd not been over that much—just to send Kyoya for lessons—but Story Time Voice was pretty much identical everywhere.

Truthfully? I'm not sure why I came here.

Actually, scratch that. I _know_ why I came here. He's older (ancient, even), knew the Hibaris well, and has a bucket load of experience dealing with Kyoya to share. I'm just not sure why I feel like I can trust Hiroto-san with that even though I don't know him that well.

But I don't know anyone else in this town, so it's already a blessing there's even a single person who's willing to help.

I'll take what I can get, and suck it up when I can't.

So I sat back and paid attention.

The Hibari family has some origins in China, but that was a _very_ long time ago. Unlike most of the immigrants, though, they kept in contact with their relatives. And _boy_ did they have some _interesting_ relatives.

Like, oh, _the leaders of the Chinese Triads._

I'd suspected some underground involvement, but this took the _cake._

I wondered how Kyoya would react if he knew. I'm betting on that blank face he gets that's his version of jaw dropping.

Or actual jaw dropping. This seemed like jaw-drop-worthy news.

…Right, back to the story.

The Hibari family had arrived in Namimori some generations ago and bought up the entirety of Namimori. They'd been the literal landlords until the Meiji Restoration, when it had been 'seized' by the government.

Well, it had been seized, on paper, but control hadn't been handed over.

I had been curious as to why a small town like Namimori would have so many Yakuza gangs. Sure, they were small, and pretty low-leveled and disorganized compared to the huge organizations in Tokyo, but they still existed.

Turns out they were the limbs by which the Hibari family had controlled Namimori.

When the Hibari family had arrived in Namimori, it was during a period of unrest and there were thugs and all kinds of low-lives hanging about. With their experience and strength, they soon had every single one of them under their thumb.

All the local yakuza answered to the Hibari name. It didn't matter what they did, what kind of 'trade' they dealt in— _all_ of them paid tribute to the Hibari family and obeyed the rules set.

That had been the tradition for generations until Kyoya's parents had passed away.

The local populace had been divided in their opinions, but fear stayed their tongues. Some of them had been resentful of the Hibari's power, while others saw the protection provided and were grateful but wary.

It was probably what Kyoya's parents had meant when they told him that the Hibari family 'protected' Namimori.

Oh lord, and isn't that just fucking hilarious. Looks like the ideal wasn't that rosy after all.

However, that wasn't the issue right now.

I had been searching for a solution but found a bigger problem.

"And how have the yakuza gangs been acting since they died?" I asked quietly. Underground organizations were always so dangerous because they considered killing a very likely option. In fact, I'd met people who considered it the first.

Hiroto-san frowned, "Most of the gangs are nothing more than thugs. They won't resort to killing people, but they might try to harass you. I've kept them away from Kyoya and they have agreed not to touch him because he is just a child. I had been hoping to train him until he is strong enough to defend himself, and in this, I am succeeding. He is phenomenally talented. Even for a Hibari."

I preened a little at that. I didn't have a hand in his growth as a fighter, but it still felt good to know that Kyoya was a hell of a little warrior.

And then I smiled.

Actually, I grinned. That same grin I'd bared at my enemies at the school. I felt my heart raise in anticipation of yet _another_ fight.

More blood to spill.

 _Actual_ blood to spill.

_Hell yes._

xXXx

Hiroto leaned slightly backwards into his chair. While it was true that he was well exposed to blood thirst, there had always been that little extra something that the Hibari family gave off that was slightly disconcerting. A young lady should not have the smile of a shark scenting blood.

He could see the young yankee girl now.

Actually, that smile wouldn't be out of place on the face of the Yamazaki-gumi's anego.

"Hiroto-san," Izumi-san nearly _sang,_ "do any of the yakuza gangs have access to firearms? Any really major 'trades'? Drugs? Women? Gambling? Tier 1 or at least Tier 2 stuff?"

And this is why that family was so dangerous. And intimidating. Even a teenager gave off the scent of danger. Tell her a story of blood and gore and she goes into details _about_ the blood and gore.

And _of course,_ she would have dealings with yakuza. Ordinary Yankees were actually rather separate from formal yakuza, but _of course,_ she was the exception.

He resisted the urge to sigh, as well as the urge to nod appreciatively—he wasn't sure which reaction was the right one, yet another sign that he wasn't made for parenting—before tapping his chin. "Definitely no 1s. Or 2s. Actually, most of them don't deal with anything except collecting fees from shops. The Hibari family banned all manner of drugs and prostitution rings when they first came here and it's been carried on. And with them in power, there hadn't been any chance of a gumi rising in power."

"So they're just run-of-the-mill thugs that have grouped together?"

He hummed.

"In very basic terms…Yes…"

" _Excellent,"_ The girl purred. With a devilish smirk, she pulled out her phone and began dialing numbers.

…What in the world?

xXXx

"Who is this?" A gruff voice muttered when the phone was picked up. I grinned, it had been a while since I had contacted him.

"Shin-san~~~" I sang, trying not to cackle in glee. It felt _so_ good to return to my roots.

"Holy Shi— _Izumi?!_ " he exclaimed, "What the hell?! I thought you disappeared off the Market after your parents died!"

I snorted. It was strange how little attention the underground paid to aboveground matters. And Shin had always been a little one-tracked. I wasn't surprised he hadn't tracked me down after I decided to continue my studies.

"I _did_ ," I muttered, pouting, "I finished my studies and everything. I was going to either continue or get a _legal_ job but one of my relatives got screwed over so I got custody of my cousin."

" _What the hell?! You?! Bring up a kid?! You're just a kid yourself!"_ Shin spat, "What kind of fucked up logic is that!"

I smiled. Shin had always been the decent sort.

"So I'm guessing that cousin of yours is also from _that side_ of town since you're calling me. And that you have a problem that needs some of my shit."

"Yep!" I beamed. Good ol' Shin. Always straight to the point.

"Fine. Gimme your address and I'll come over with a selection. If you feed me something good I'll give you a discount."

_B-but…_

"But I can't cook well!" I whined. Compared to his 'high-class' palate, the food I churned out was definitely not up to scratch.

He burst out laughing, "No shit! I thought I was going to die when you tried to make grilled mackerel! The whole pan was on fire and everything!"

_Oh lord…_

" _It was my first time cooking!"_

"And it tasted like char-grilled ass."

Talking with Shin always made me regress in maturity.

"Shin-san you meanie!"

"Hope you're not poisoning the poor kid too? Oh, the horror! He won't survive a _month!_ "

" _He's already survived two weeks perfectly, you moron! And he's completely healthy thank you very much!"_

"Well, that's half way there, so try to reach for that record! Annd there's that spitfire I know! Hehehe. Alright, I gotta go in a few minutes. Gimme the address and I'll come over sometime this week."

I recited the address and thanked him haughtily.

"Good to hear from you again, Kitten. Glad to know the Crazy Street Cat still hasn't forgotten old friends."

I growled at the nickname but bade him farewell.

As I flipped my cell shut, I surveyed the startled expression on Hiroto-san's face. Indulging in a short cackle, I rubbed my hands together in glee.

"Shin-san…?" he questioned, face scrunched up in confusion.

I beamed back.

xXXx

 _Good lord_ , Hiroto thought as he listened to Izumi-san's tale. He quashed the urge to scrub his face and slump like the old man he was.

Of all people, Izumi-san would know _Bullet Shin,_ the well-known arms dealer famed for his sizeable collection of guns of all kinds as well as his ability to _use_ them.

Well, he mused to himself, it seemed that _this_ Hibari was already making her mark in their world.

Far be it for him to stop her.

"Do you know how to use a firearm as well?" He asked tentatively, not sure how he would respond to either yes or no. On one hand, she was a Hibari, on the other, she was young enough to be his granddaughter.

"Not well," she admitted, "I only tried shooting stuff a few times when Shin-san let me. I missed a lot, but I don't blink when I shoot—Shin-san said that was very important—so I'm taking him up on those lessons he offered before."

He blinked. _Well._

It was somewhat impressive to gain the attention of Bullet Shin, who was always on the lookout for students but was picky with them. The fact wasn't surprising. That she had turned him down that was.

Izumi seemed to read his expression—despite him having trained not to expose it—and shrugged sheepishly, "I was fighting people and stuff but I didn't really want to get involved with all that complicated shit. I mean, I wanted to hurt people, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to kill them."

The wording, yet again, caught his attention. It was an expression of uncertainty—whether she _wanted_ to kill people—and not one of fear. And the delivery had been matter-of-fact, which indicated that she was not actually conflicted about murder.

Again, another indication that certain mentalities were hereditary.

Not that he was in any position to throw stones. His family came with its own history.

He pursed his lips in contemplation, "Do you intend to…?"

"Huh?" She frowned, then—"Oh! Nah. I won't kill them if I can help it. Most Surface people usually back off once you wave a gun in their face and prove it's real. If they don't, I can smash a few noses. Positioning is important, of course, so I don't end up surrounded and jumped, but I've loads of experience fighting multiples. As long as they're not actual _professionals_ I'll be fine. More than."

She scratched her cheek as she continued to think out loud, "Maybe I can hint that I have backing? Hmm…I can ask Shin…No. I don't want to owe too many favours… Hmm… Kyoya's safe so I don't have to worry. I just have to make sure that they know not to mess with _me._ Hmm…Demonstration? I don't really want to kill anyone unless I can help it. Not a good example to set for Kyoya. Erm…"

A scowl appeared as she pondered the problem, "I need my own group. I can't keep them under control if I don't. But I can't trust them. And I don't want Kyoya interacting with them. Bad influence. I need…Non-Underground. Fresh meat. Teachable…"

Hiroto felt his lips quirk as he followed her line of thought, "Actually… I have a suggestion…"


	15. Chapter 15

Honestly, I wasn't sure why I didn't connect the dots myself when Hiroto-san filled me in on Namimori's 'illustrious' history.

I mean, it was easy enough to follow once you got the gist of things.

If you are a cunning ex-yakuza veteran slash epically awesome martial artist…person.

And by cunning I mean the type of evil-ish old dude who sits behind the scenes pulling strings, going _huehuehue_ and imparting his Evil Way Of World Domination to the young evil-dudes-in-making.

He has _wicked_ fighting skills for a guy half his age, is _still_ active in the underground world, and has an established reputation. (Unfortunately, he doesn't really have a snazzy nickname) If that didn't put the stamp on his card as 'certified badass', I don't know what would. As the saying went, you don't get to live that long without being twice as cunning, twice as strong, and generally twice as _everything_ as the average guy. Or something along the lines.

Besides, he could totally take over the world if he wanted to. He probably just doesn't want to make the effort of ruling it too.

After all, he has the means _right at his fingertips_.

There's _actually_ a proverbial army-in-the-making available here in Namimori.

You know how this place is teeming with all these run-of-the-mill yakuzas? Yeah, about them…

Yakuza are generally assholes. Especially the low-ranking ones, who are basically thugs with violence and anger management issues. And assholes will be assholes will be assholes. And asshole equals inability to man up and take care of one's responsibilities as well as asshole genes that are transferred down the line.

Or something like that.

See, asshole doesn't mean inability to get a girl, even if it has to be one who's half blind, masochistic, and maybe more than a little retarded. But it _does_ mean a family that defines dysfunctional (if they get married at all) and any kid that gets popped out is a result of said asshole genes, with that extra dash of Daddy and maybe Mummy issues. Or just issues in general, including said violence and anger management issues.

Did you know that Namimori has its own specialized Juvenile Prison?

xXXx

Hiroto watched as understanding dawned on Izumi-san's face. He felt a little pride at how quick she picked things up. Sharp as a knife, this one.

He'd be the first to admit that he was throwing her to the sharks. Skill-wise, she was still green as a sprout, and good instincts could only take her so far. Her 'trained' reflexes from street-fights as a yankee would help, but there was no competing with formal instruction.

That said, he was rather interested in witnessing this particular scenario play out.

Namimori Juvenile Prison.

A special place for the especially troubled adolescents of this peculiar town. He'd seen the insides of many prisons in his youth, but the lovingly dubbed Nami Juvie remained high on the list for its sheer brutality.

It was not so much a correction facility as 'Juvenile Prisons' usually were, but an actual prison for the ever-increasing numbers of yakuza children. From wide-eyed pre-teens playing with alcohol, cigarettes and switchblades to those already acting as runners for various gangs, Nami Juvie was a home to them all.

They could probably be called Izumi-ojou's peers, Hiroto chuckled, although she did not quite have the same background, coming from a non-operating branch of the Hibari family. If she _had_ been born to an active branch, she would have had several playdates with Kyoya-sama and their families would not have been so estranged. In fact, that her parents had visited the late Hibari-sama to pay their respects before was unusual because the only branches that were completely clean were those that didn't even know their roots.

Perhaps a little more digging was required…

In any case, there was no time like the present. How Izumi-ojou would navigate her new sandbox would be a test of her abilities.

There was actually a twofold reason to introducing Izumi-ojou to the denizens of Nami Juvie.

The first was to test her mettle, of which Hiroto was actually rather assured of. The second was a little closer to his heart.

Being from a not dissimilarly bloody background to these youths, he felt a sense of kinship to them. In _his_ youth, he had been exactly where they were, both literally and emotionally.

He understood the restlessness, the seething resentment, and the directionless floundering.

He understood how it felt to be trapped.

The only way to break free of the vicious cycle was to find a purpose. One that did not destroy one's sense of worth, moral compass, or exacerbated the violent streak into a berserker rage.

It had been Hibari-sama who had saved him from such a fate, and now, he hoped that another Hibari would take up the mantle.

As they entered the facility, Hiroto slowed a half-step behind in deference.

This was her show now.

xXXx

I've mentioned before that I had developed a sixth sense for people. It was borne of fighting in the streets, of negotiating the dark streets and alleys, of talking to that nice uncle whom you realize could have killed you if you had misspoken.

Danger sense.

It's the prickling on the back of your neck when someone is eyeing it with the intent of snapping it. It's the shiver down your spine when that seemingly nonchalant fellow steps close enough for a surprise punch that will take out a rib. It's the unconscious shift in weight from the heels to the balls of your feet so that you can dash/spin/duck/punch.

But most of all, it's the overwhelming urge to run away.

There, place one foot on the gleaming white tiles. Embrace the heady rush of adrenaline, heightened awareness, and _anticipation_. Place another foot in front, ignore—no, _enjoy—_ the thrill of fear that threatens to bring you to your knees and savor the taste of it.

Silent, shallow breaths, but don't hyperventilate. Fear is good, fear is healthy, fear is _human._ Panic is just trouble.

Fighting—not sparring or 'martial sports' or whatever they call it these days—is like riding a bicycle. You never forget it. Your _body_ never forgets it. Once that part of you is awakened, it lies under your skin, in wait for the next time, the next fight.

Sure, you might go out of shape if you don't keep fit, might lose that edge to your awareness if you don't practice, but you never, ever, _forget_ it. You remember how to move, what to watch, where and when to strike. You know where the soft parts lie, where the bones crack, where the pain stays.

Sometimes you learn where it bleeds and never stops unless you call the ambulance.

Sometimes you learn where it doesn't break, but _bursts,_ and even the ambulance is for naught.

Another step, quietly, carefully, sideways so you're not such a big target.

Another step and you know.

You've entered the jungle.

xXXx

Nami Juvie is a law onto itself.

And the law is that the strongest rules.

To be heard, you have to fight. To be followed, you have to fight and win. To stand at the very top and _rule,_ you have to _dominate._

How will a teenage girl who has only ever fought on the 'baby' end of the underground scale succeed in such a thing? It's impossible.

Is it?

I worry as I step into the field. The boys and almost-men are gathered here and bodies—both the unconscious type and not—lie scattered on the grass. A thought catches before drifting away on the heady tide of adrenaline.

_This is a literal_ _**battlefield.** _

I'm blinking at the sunlight, squinting up at a raised platform where a hulking brute of a man lounges. I heard his name but forgot it soon after.

I'm to fight as gladiators do—against opponent after opponent and working my way up the rank and file for the pleasure of the leader. I check the numbers and they are impossible. I cannot fight all these people in one day.

I cannot kill them all either—I came for followers, after all.

I stare and ponder and wonder. And then, as my opponent sneaks behind me and tries for a stab with his shiv, I spin, kick his head, and grab the weapon. I test the blade on my arm—it cuts easy and clean.

My opponent stumbles and I kick him again to prevent him rising. There is no fight as long as he does not recover. My leg catches him in the chest and I feel something crack beneath my shoe.

I play with the shiv—a sharp blade he'd carved out of a spoon—and think.

I cannot fight my way up, I do not have the stamina for it. The leader will not fight me unless I prove myself a threat—something worthy of note.

The light catches on the still-shiny surface of the little knife and makes it glimmer like a gem.

I look at Hiroto-san, who has taken a comfortable seat by the gate and is chatting with a neighbor. I look at the leader, who is waiting impatiently for the fight to end.

I look at the bodies on the field.

When I weigh Kyoya's safety against this, it's an easy choice.

Whoever you are, stranger, thank you for this gem.

Now let's see how easily it carves, shall we?

xXXx

Hiroto raises an eyebrow as he watches the young Lady Hibari at work. It's impressive work, he thinks in admiration, and definitely the signs of talent. It is just that he had not pegged the bright, caring girl for an Interrogator.

And what an interrogator she is.

She's new to the field, testing the knife and cutting a little too deep in some places, but she learns quickly and her victim is a whimpering, shredded wreck on the ground. She doesn't ask questions, because this isn't that type of interrogation, but her eyes regularly fall on Mori Izawa's. It's a challenge that she presents. Or rather, a _threat._

It's a very clear message.

He hadn't thought that she would realize the unspoken loopholes in Nami Juvie, but she had and she played with them thoroughly.

Nami Juvie was home to the delinquents of Namimori, but the violence that happened behind its doors was ignored because they did not involve the good people of the town. She wasn't going anywhere no matter how much she carved into the unfortunate boy who had tried to stick her with his shiv.

And carved she did. Most of the boys in Nami Juvie were involved with yakuza one way or another and had seen or participated in one violent skirmish or another, but almost none of them were acquainted with the type of bloodiness that she was introducing on the field. The type of cool steadiness required to cut a young boy into a mass of wounds and have him go from keening to screaming to broken moaning to begging to shuddering sobs.

All of Nami Juvie was transfixed on her as she worked. Many winced in sympathy as she dragged across pre-existing cuts or snagged against the ragged end of a wound. A few of them paled so much and so quickly that it was an example of blood draining from one's face. It helped that her assailant was young—a fresh-faced boy who had probably only ever ran for drugs or assisted a con.

When she was done, she cleaned the blade on the boy's shirt. He was still conscious, such was her talent.

The shine of the blade caught a stray ray of sunlight and reflected into Mori's wide eyes.

The challenge had been made.

xXXx

Was it easy to put the knife to his skin and let it bite into it? Did it feel _good?_

I think the question of whether I lust for blood or violence has been answered.

It was difficult and I nearly puked. My hand kept wanting to tremble and drop the spoon-knife.

It was a good thing it was so sharp, because if I had to press harder to cut I would have abandoned the plan and abandoning the plan would have meant abandoning victory and abandoning victory would mean throwing Kyoya to the dogs.

 _Why_ did he have to be almost the same age as Kyoya?

They'd started out easy on me, I know, but they'd started out at the bottom and the one at the bottom was a child.

Of _course_ it was just a child and a fucking preteen whose eyes would go wide with panic and stream with tears.

But a plan was a plan and the plan was to keep going until there was nowhere left to cut. And no, thinking of him as one big ham to slice did not help—it made things worse and I won't be able to eat meat for a while.

The anticipation in my gut had soured and rotted until the only thing left was cold and bitterness. A fight was nice. Nice and clean and hot and exciting.

This was so far from it that I wanted to spit. The taste was bad and heavy on my tongue. I hated this and I hated being forced into doing this and I hated myself just as much as I hated the situation.

But it was the plan.

And the plan was _working._

xXXx

Fear is a very good indication of a person. How one deals with one's fear is very indicative of his or her strength.

Mori Izawa's strength was both physical and mental, and even the sight of the boy that Izumi-ojou had cut up didn't send him fleeing.

But it did make him wary and nervous.

And so he used weapons instead of his usual fists to avoid that gleaming blade.

But his strength was in his fistfights and fighting with a blade was a _skill._ Hiroto did not know when or where Izumi-ojou acquired it, but she had and she was good.

She was also fearful but it seemed to steady her instead. She'd breathed it in and relaxed and started playing with the knife again. And then her eyes became angry and an angry Hibari never made a good opponent. In the worst ways possible.

Izumi-ojou was angry, skilled, and armed. And she had the Hibari lust for violence and that almost preternatural sense of danger.

Mori Izawa never stood a chance.


	16. Chapter 16

I would have liked to say that the rest of the puzzle pieces fell in line after that, but this wasn't the truth. For one, this was Nami Juvie of the 'survival of the fittest, cruellest, and most cunning' cloth. There were hardly going to be any wilting wallflowers here, although most were just punks trying their best to act tough.

(For your information, Yankees did not go about dressed in bandages and long coats. We did not _all_ bleach our hair or colour them blonde or carry bats…do you know how conspicuous bats are? Or crowbars? And hair damage is _not_ something to scoff at.)

There were no more fights after the 'boss' one, but it took more than one show of strength and creative cruelty to get the whole dungeon of hooligans to settle down.

It took me bringing in a gun from Shin and shooting someone in the leg for them to finally shut up.

Guns were of Tier One calibre in the underworld smuggling table. Any run of the mill gang could extort money from shop owners or run a gambling house. A step up would be trading in women and drugs. The next step would be firearms and false documents and other exotic goods. Only the very best had access to the latest models and biggest toys.

Shin-san, AKA Bullet Shin, was one of _the_ best weapons dealers in all of Japan. I only brought a Glock in for the demonstration, but he had also stocked me up on a very nice AK-47 and TEC-9. Perhaps not the most exotic repertoire, but they were the most popular models for a reason. With shooting lessons lined up along with a free-flow of ammunition thrown in to the deal, I'd gotten off _really_ cheaply. Of course, that was also because I'd shared my plan of taking over Namimori and a lot of the goods were given 'in goodwill' for future considerations.

And so, on my next visit without Hiroto-san, I brought it along, waved it in their faces, and then shot the first burly tryhard to mouth off. With my shiny new firearm. And free bullets.

Sometimes I despair of Shin-san, it's like he's been planning for me to take over a town or two since we'd met.

xXXx

When all egos (except mine) were deflated and cowed into submission, the _real_ challenge began. It was simple enough (although not completely _easy)_ to totter around slapping people around and making them cry, but getting them all organized was like catching water with a net. These people were drop-outs from middle school and up, some were _supposed_ to be in middle school, while others were older than yours truly and should really have manned up and gotten a job by now.

Except…well. Life. Shit. Teenage angst. Domestic drama. Some truly sad stories. Some not so sad ones.

And it was…difficult. It was easy when I just wanted to be Head Bitch in charge, but if I wanted whatever system I created to last, I needed loyalty. And fear did not breed loyalty. In fact, I'd be watching over my shoulder for the rest of my life. God, this was so troublesome, getting embroiled into the underworld even though I'd have been content to get a job with my diploma and bring Kyoya up into a somewhat decent and competent human being.

But I needed more people and I needed more people I could trust. And if I was going to go through the whole fucking song and dance of being the cocky, sadistic, _deadly_ newcomer then I sure as hell could turn around and be the ear-lending, sympathetic, decisive _leader._ I was going to separate the irredeemable from the ones I could use, and then I was going to _drag them all up the social ladder by their balls._ I was going to take these people who ran around being scum and trash and the bottom of every gang hierarchy and I was going to turn them into _my goddamn people._

And here I am getting all possessive about people I don't have yet. Or who still don't even _like_ me.

But the thought of _my_ people helped. Helped me I meant, not help them like they were receiving psychic suggestions of becoming mine and yeah I'm starting to ramble oh god I thought I'd grown _out_ of this but yeah apparently not and I need to shut up now because that's not a Hibari trait and ohmygod when did I start referring myself as a Hibari when I'm a Tojita maybe I _should_ change my name okay that isn't relevant shut up shut up shut _up._

Fuck Fuck Fuckity _FUCK._

Just thinking of the enormity of the task I have chosen to undertake and now _have to_ see to the end makes my breath catch, makes my head spin, makes my hand shake. I need to see Kyoya, need someone to talk at. I need to hug him because he's the reason, he's all the reason I'm doing this. He is. Everything.

I'm fine, I'm fine, and I just need to need to get out for a little bit. Need to breathe a little.

I want Kyoya, where's Kyoya?

He's at school, right, I forgot. It's a weekday what did I expect? He can't stay at home forever. And I have to…there was a thing I had in mind…

"…Izumi?"

xXXx

Kyoya comes home to see Izumi sitting on the ground with her knees drawn up. She's making soft shuddering sounds and he doesn't know what's going on. Did she trip? Did she hurt herself?

He blinks and walks over until he can hear clearly the bitten-off sobbing from his guardian and.

And he's running towards her in a flash, skidding to his knees and tugging insistently at her arms. Did she—is—did something happen? He doesn't know what to do except keep pulling at her because he needs to see her face he needs to _know what's going on._ Another sound joins her sobbing and it takes him a moment to realize that it's him. He didn't know because he's never made a sound like that, like a dog's whine but around the word _Izumi_ instead of just a noise and she just. Keeps. Crying.

And that—he can't—he _needs_ her to hear him. She always knows what he's thinking even when he doesn't say a word, always listens when he talks to her, always she's always there and he can't, he _can't it's just like when Grandma fell asleep and didn't wake up._

He doesn't know what's _wrong_ he can't _fix it_ just please Izumi tell him what's _wrong what's wrong why are you crying and can't you hear me?_

His face is wet and he can't stop hiccupping Mother said to drink water when you hiccup but isn't he wet enough? He can't get Izumi's hands away from her face but he _needs_ her so he just pushes and pushes himself at her until he gets his face between her arms and legs and wiggles to get his top half there so that he can reach around her middle and just squeeze. Squeeze hard because it means she's right there and isn't going away and she said hugs helped _everything_ and Izumi's never lied before even if he didn't hug back and he's _sorry he's sorry he'll always hug back whenever she hugs now._

His arms start aching after a while but he just tightens his arms because he isn't going to let go. He _won't._ And it seems forever before she moves and she's _hugging back she's hugging she's here and she's hugging back and he was so scared he didn't know what to do he was so useless and please don't leave please don't leave please don't leave._

"Shhh, no no baby, not leaving, not leaving, not _ever_ leaving, kay?" The voice isn't anything like the gentle, soothing tones of his guardian. It's rough and breaks a lot between words, but it's still her. It's still her pulling him into her lap and stroking his hair. She smells of grass and food and Grandma's incense. The hair that spills over his shoulder is warm and silky and long.

"You didn't _answer,"_ he tries to say, but it ends on a whining note instead. He clears his throat several times to no avail. Everything he says just seems to end up high pitched and shocked. "Why didn't you _answer?"_

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," no no, it's not her _fault,_ he's just asking because he didn't know what to _do._ He wants to know what to _do._ "Oh, Kyoya, I'm so sorry, I've just had a bad day today. I'm sorry."

But that's not what he needs to know, he buries his head in her neck, hiccupping all the way, "Are you going to do that again?"

When she stiffens it's all he can do just to hold on and sob.

xXXx

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

I just had a panic attack oh _god._

I shudder a little, clinging to my little boy, needing to feel someone else here. He's hysterical and holding on like an octopus but god if it's not exactly what I need. I take deep gulping breaths and can almost feel calm steal over me again.

It's not the first time I've had a panic attack, although they have not plagued me for more than a year. I used to get them for simpler, more childish reasons, but ever since the big one after my parents died everything seemed to be so trivial compared to it. My exams were difficult, but failing wasn't the end of the world. If I could pick myself up after my parents died, well.

But with this new responsibility and all the underground connections interfering, I guess I should have seen it coming.

"Shh, shh, I'm here, I'm here…" I whisper to Kyoya, voice cracking in so many places that the words almost get lost within the spaces. He shakes and my neck feels wet. My poor baby, coming home and seeing such a horrible sight. I'm such a failure of a guardian.

He'd probably be better off with someone else, even if it wasn't a blood relation, but it's too late. I can't ever let him go. Poor substitute of a parent that I am, I can't bear to let him go.

"Are you going to do that again?" He asks plaintively. He's all choked up and I bet his nose is dripping as well.

I flinch, because I can't tell him _no_ and mean it. I can't say that it'll never happen again, though if I could help it—if I could stop panicking through sheer force of will—I _would._ I would move _mountains_ just to fix this, fix _me._ The sound he makes is so frightened and mournful that my heart breaks just listening to it.

"Shh, no no," I murmur to him, stroking that silky head carefully and feeling my throat tighten. My poor boy, my poor baby.

"What am I supposed to _do?!"_ He demands wetly into my shoulder, and it's like I've swallowed a stone. He shouldn't have to do _anything._ He shouldn't be dealing with my problems. _I_ should be the one making sure he doesn't get affected by all my stupid fuck-ups.

"I _want_ to," he replies, and I realize I said all that out loud. _Fuck._ "You have to let me do something!" He insists, raising his voice when I do not reply. "You _have to._ Izumi!" He's clearly whining, more sure of his words now that the attack is over. He's so adorably aggrieved, as if my attack had offended his sensibilities by not being something he can punch in the face.

"Okay, okay," I shush, feeling bubbles of laughter in my chest. My dear boy, my _darling_ boy. So brave and so kind that he deserves everything. Everything in the world. I want to give him all that I can and more.

" _Tell me what to do,"_ he growls grumpily when my shoulder shakes. He loosens his arms enough to look up at me with big grey eyes and that familiar scowl. His hair is slightly flattened against his forehead, while his whole face is red from pressing into my neck. He is the cutest thing I have ever seen in my life.

I let myself laugh, let myself press a kiss to his forehead, feeling him slump over as I keep peppering his face with kisses until he squirms. "Just do what you did before," I tell his cheek, smiling and feeling so very fortunate. "Don't be scared," I continue, swallowing around my failure. He shouldn't have to deal with this but he is and _damn_ if that's the best thing anyone has ever done for me.

"Sometimes I need to ride it out," I say waveringly, feeling another onset of tears, "But having someone there, someone to hold on to—it helps. A lot." I blink rapidly, remembering how the warmth of one small body had seeped into the blackness of fear, how reaching out and coming back to tufts of black hair tickling my chin had filled me with such _joy._ I am so _blessed_ to have him. To have my little boy. "I might not answer," and how it kills me to have hurt him so, "but I still know you're there. Promise. Okay?"

Kyoya is obviously scared at the idea of another attack, but as he always does, he squares his shoulders and stands up to the challenge. Such a brave, brave boy. His eyes seek mine out and hold them as he vows with all the solemnity of his ten years, "Promise."

xXXx

It's a promise he keeps even after ten years.


	17. Chapter 17

Somehow the aftermath of the attack is wonderful. I feel like a deflated balloon, which is normal, but I'm a _happy_ deflated balloon. That's so different from normal even Kyoya can tell it's weird. I clean up, prepare breakfast, get the other things done and settle down at the work table for the evening to plan and somehow, everything seems so small. So easy.

Huh.

I don't even need a list. There's a piece of paper on the table and a pen in my hand but I don't need a list. I don't need to plan everything step by step. I don't care about anyone except Kyoya, and maybe Hiroto-san but he can take care of himself and seriously, I'm not about to worry over him. He's older than Kyoya and I combined. Twice over. And a certified badass.

How do you make people your people? I don't know.

There's probably something like wooing, except crowd-based, and a lot of posturing to show-off your best side. I've killed their leader, severely traumatized a kid in front of them, and basically staged a coup singlehandedly. It's not really the side that gathers you followers. But there's no way but up from there.

Except going up might mean showing weakness. And showing weakness would mean a stab in the back in the dark of the night. Or Kyoya getting hurt. So that's utterly out. Out.

But if I keep scaring them, would they follow me? Surely, they'll rebel, right?

Well, I'm not going to give them a chance.

Lucky for them, I still need them. Somewhat. I'll kill them all and figure something else myself if I need to, but I'll start out fairly. I'm not unreasonable. I'll give them some time to come around.

Carrot and stick. I can do that easily.

And if not? I can do the other thing easily too.

xXXx

Hiroto drives the little Ojou-san to Nami Juvie again and watches as she walks through the doors. She's different this time, although it's not really as surprising anymore. This is her strength—she adapts to everything without slowing her stride, takes things into her and grows so that she can keep mowing down everything in her path. She's the kind of Hibari that could have been head of the family.

She brought in just a Glock, which means she isn't intending to make more examples. Everybody in Nami Juvie is still cowed, so he approves, because she's not overcompensating and swaggering too much. That would just create resentment and tip fear over to anger. She has a natural sensitivity to the balance. It's a useful ability.

Except when he goes in to tell her it's time to pick up Kyoya from school, she's in the middle of throwing an older teen over her shoulder. She's fighting bare-handed, her Glock still holstered at her hip.

(Her form has improved, as most Hibari do in the midst of battle. It is their gift—no, it is their _right._ They were meant to rule here.)

Around them, the inmates form a loose circle of injured members. It looks like she's already gone at least a round with every single one of them.

When she sees him, she steps off from her opponent, glowing. He's seen Hibari-sama in the throes of battle, but it's just a little different with the new Lady Hibari. Her eyes shine and the flush in her cheeks stand out like the bloom of a rose. She looks like a maiden in love, whereas Hibari-sama had looked coolly satisfied. He wonders if Ojou-san is what Hibari-sama would have looked like if she had not been trained to keep her cool since young.

(It is a beguiling image.)

But Hibari-sama is no longer with them, and Ojou-san seems to have things well in hand. It's so very _Hibari_ of her that he can't help the smile on his face as she joins him and proceeds to gush about her plan.

It's actually not a plan, but _entertainment,_ but if she wants to call it that, far be it for him to contradict her. She's spent her entire life brought up on values that better fit the current society—which may mean she is the most well-socialised Hibari in history—and it will take time before she accepts the nature of her blood.

It has already awakened in her, and he will see that it blooms fully, but he can wait.

For now, he simply tells her that it looks promising. _(She_ looks promising.)

He smiles and starts preparing a list of useful contacts to hand over to her when she wants it.

(His blood sings, a new Hibari head is coming into her own.)

xXXx

It is easy to fight. It gets easier as time goes by. It's part of my schedule now and secretly, the part I look forward to most. Send Kyoya to school, go to Hiroto-san's place to drive to Nami Juvie, and beat everyone up one by one. It's _fun._ It's honestly the most fun I've had in a long, long time.

The first time I started the plan, I laid out my rule: Follow my every order and I will take care of them.

It's so simple I was impressed with myself.

All your objections are disregarded. All your problems do not matter. Your sob story and your traumatized history and your old debts and regrets _do not fucking matter._ You start out utterly new with me. I will welcome you with open arms. You _will_ be my people, I will not accept anything less.

Hiroto-san has already made the necessary arrangements to set up a place for them to stay. It's close to the town square, all the better to get to wherever I want them to be as quick as possible. It's big and roomy and has all the necessary amenities. It can fit 140 people easily.

(Better more than less, but however many I end up with in the end does not matter.)

Money? Money is not an issue. Money will _never_ be an issue. Hiroto-san tells me there is a joint account under his name that's actually the Hibari sort-of trust-for-illegal-stuff, and that there is everything I need.

I have the yen to accommodate the people I want. I have the people to mold into the people I want. And lastly, I have patience.

Now I just need to convince the people I want that they _want_ to be mine.

It's easy.

They all agree to obey, because of _course_ they would, they'd be stupid beyond redemption not to take the chance of a new start. Except all of them don't particularly mean it when they promise to obey me, which is alright, they will learn because I can wait. I'm not stupid, I will _never_ be stupid about this and they will learn.

Of course, that doesn't mean I forgive them.

Some of the doubts I had about fighting kind of went out the window after Mori Izawa. If he's the biggest, baddest thing in there, then the others aren't really much in the way of fighting. I mean, I'm not going to use a knife, of course, that's silly, I don't want them _dead_ yet. So I punch, I kick, I break fingers and ribs and _crunch crunch crunch_ it's _easy._

(It's so easy I laugh when I pick up Kyoya again. It's so easy because I don't need to worry, I just need to wait. Humans are fragile things, weak things, and full of red spots that draw my eye and say _hereherehere here is where I bleed._ I laugh and reply _nonono not yet I'll wait just a bit longer until I make you bleed.)_

They go one on one. They go one on one or else they die. I've already shot people, it's easy. Just unlatch the safety, point it and press the trigger. Nobody's dead yet, because nobody wants to die. I keep the promises I make.

Nobody tests that promise.

They try other things, like bringing concealed weapons, pretending to be weak, pretending to listen but trying to stir shit up, pretending this and that, always pretending, pretending, pretending.

I don't. I keep the promises that I make.

They learn. Slowly. But they learn.

Follow my every order _to the last letter and in the spirit of my order without misinterpretation_ and I will take care of you.

Or else.

xXXx

The denizens of Nami Juvie are confused and sore. They are used to being used, used to being scum on the bottom of everyone's shoes. They're used to fear, to hatred, to scorn.

They hail from families so broken they shouldn't be called families.

They hail from places human lives are cheap.

They don't trust anyone. They don't obey anything but power.

Tojita Izumi makes them a promise that doesn't make sense. She makes them a promise that is obviously false, not even trying to keep things realistic, not even trying to sell them an idea they can pretend to believe. She lies so blatantly they're a little stunned, and then she tries to make things simple. _Simple._

As if their pasts can be swept away so easily. As if their problems can be solved so easily. As if all the blood, the tears and spiral of _angerfearhurt_ will ever be broken. She's not one of them, cannot even begin to understand _anything_ of the underworld, and she dares to come in like she's saving all of them. Like those people who think they're better than others and try to save them.

(They killed those people.)

She's a child. A foolish, stupid, _naïve child._

But she's strong. She's _strong_. And she gets stronger the more she fights.

It's not _fair_ how this girl has everything at her fingertips and they do not and she does not understand _anything_ about the world and she _condescends_ to try and _help_ them. The world isn't fair, they've learnt that long ago, but there are truths in the dark world they live in and stupid people do not live. They do not survive. They do not _win._

Except she keeps winning all the fights, and they keep losing ground and their arguments are starting to lose ground with them because strength wins arguments in their world except this argument doesn't _make sense._

She draws the line every time she comes in. _Follow my every order and I will take care of you._

How can she expect _anyone_ to actually abide that?

So of _course_ they break their 'promise'. It's not even worth the breath used to say it. But they say it because this is yet another 'oath' to be taken under duress, the kind you smile and repeat after your new jailer like it's kindergarten and quietly search out ways to defy. Same shit, different day. Grit your teeth and wait for a chance.

Except then she erases the line. Because there was never a line.

There is _always_ a line when a new boss comes in, even if it's _do not piss me off with stupid questions and I will hit you when I feel like it._ Or _I will beat you but not seriously because you're still useful._ There is _always_ a line even if the boss redraws it where he or she sees fit. Cuts corners and tightens the leash. But there is always a line with them. You just need to test it and find where it starts.

They test it and it disappears like mist.

The only line she has is _you won't die._ Which. They're not even sure the line stops there on purpose.

She beats everyone, from the oldest inmate to the youngest child, to an inch of their lives. She fights like a beast, and hits like a hammer, then a _sledge_ hammer, then a _fucking truck._ If they didn't know better, they'd think they were training dummies. Except she comes back with the promise again and draws the line back. Exactly where it was.

It doesn't slip, it doesn't slide, it stays where it is. Except it's a _lie_ because she fucking _obliterates_ it every time they break her 'rule'. It doesn't even make _sense,_ because she doesn't need an excuse to hit them, she doesn't need to make that stupid rule that she _knows_ they will break so that she's fucking _justified_ in beating the shit out of them.

(There are people who do that for the fun of it. But they don't want anything from them but pain. They want to break people, not use them. And she wants to use them. Except. She also enjoys their pain. Except she doesn't. She waits for them to recover properly before beating them up again.)

Except.

Since they're going to be beaten anyway, why don't they obey her just this once, so everyone can see for themselves what a fucking hypocrite she is.

xXXx

I can wait.

The rules are very, very clear. They're very, very simple.

I can wait for them to fall in line. I can wait for them to give in. I can wait.

Eventually, I'll be more relaxed in enforcing them, if they prove they can be trusted to make more decisions for themselves. Not that they're stupid, but they're not _not_ stupid either. Old dogs and new tricks. But I'm not teaching a trick.

I have patience.

Follow my word and I'll take care of you. I'll repeat it as many times as I have to.

xXXx

She doesn't break her word.

xXXx

The line exists.

xXXx


End file.
